A Twist In Time
by a.c.ryder
Summary: In the 3B finale, Emma goes back to the Enchanted Forest in Zelena's time portal (without Hook). Emma calls Rumpel to help her. Eventually there will be smut amidst magic lessons and the ball. Story in Present!Storybrooke and past!EF. Emma will be slightly darker in this story, an anti-hero (like how she started out on the show) Done by request, hope you enjoy it Dearie!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: OUAT and characters herein are not mine, although at times I wish they were. I hope you enjoy!

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><p>The ticking of the antique grandfather clock seemed amplified in the overwhelming silence of his shop. Belle stood before him with an expectant glare and a gentle smile, her hands resting loosely in his. The question, <em>'Will you marry me?'<em> was trapped on the tip of his tongue. If anyone had told him that one day he would be proposing marriage to another woman, Rumpelstiltskin would have laughed in their face. But he couldn't get the words out, not after he had lied to her again – while he was _still_ lying to her.

Belle believed that she held the dagger that controlled him, but even as he told her he trusted her with his whole heart, he was imagining all the scenarios in which he would need his power – desperate life or death situations that rested in Belle's naïve hands. She would render him powerless in favor of believing him to be better than he truly was, of that he had no doubt. After Zelena, he would never risk losing his free will again.

Keeping the real dagger was the only decision that seemed right, because honestly, proposing to the woman before him made his stomach writhe and knot. It was something he couldn't name, something in the back of his mind – every fiber of his being screamed that this was all wrong. The bell rang over his door and Belle's smile faltered as none other than Emma walked in, blessedly interrupting the awkward silence. He could have hugged her for her perfect timing, quickly releasing Belle's hands.

"Miss Swan…" he greeted in a heavy sigh of relief. A genuine smile spread on Emma's lips as she closed the door – and not the usual forced half-smirk that he was so accustomed to – such a smile was a rare sight to see when she was in his presence.

He hadn't seen Emma since Zelena's defeat in the barn two weeks ago. Then, when Hook showed up at the station and told them all that Emma had fallen through the time portal, he feared every moment that she would change the course of the future. But everything was much the same, and she had returned unharmed and apparently, eager to see _him_.

"What brings you by on this lovely afternoon?"

"There are a few things you and I need to discuss…privately." Emma said, looking to Belle with a glare that clearly stated, '_please leave_'.

"About what…?" Belle asked before he could utter a word, coming to stand protectively at his side.

"It's a police matter..." came her snide reply. Subtlety never was the Savior's strong suit.

"Anything you say to him you can say in front of me." Belle stated defiantly, linking their arms together.

The tension could've been cut with a knife as the two women glared daggers at each other. Belle and Emma may not be best friends, but he's never seen them quite so… disdainful with each other. If Gold didn't know better he might've thought Emma looked a little jealous, or rather, possessive. But that was ridiculous; Emma bore no real love for him and she was probably only here to accuse him of yet another crime. Something he didn't want Belle hearing. But as Emma's gaze drifted back to him, leveling him with an equally stern and pleading glare, he untangled their arms. It was rare enough that Emma came to see him, even rarer still that she wanted a private audience.

"It's alright, Belle. I'll meet you at Granny's as soon as I'm done here." He kissed the back of her hand, wearing a mask of faux regret that they would be separated for a short while.

"But…"

"I'll meet you when I'm done." He said a bit more sharply than he'd intended, but it had the desired effect. Belle sighed in aggravation, glaring murderously at Emma as she stormed toward the door. Emma's knowing gaze never left him as the bell sounded once more.

"Welcome home, Miss Swan…" he said, shifting anxiously under the weight of her stare.

"Thanks." A wave of panic rushed through him as Emma locked the door, switching the sign to '_closed_'. She turned back to face him, approaching him slowly. Were her demeanor not so calm or her posture so relaxed he might think he was in danger. But that small smile was still on her lips, and he found himself relaxing in her presence.

"So, how was your trip through time and space?" he asked. She huffed, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she leaned against the glass counter. Were it anyone else, he would've ordered them to move.

"It was interesting…" she replied dryly.

"No doubt being transported between worlds is becoming tiresome…" She chuckled softly beneath her breath.

"Yea, between my first trip to the Enchanted Forest, Neverland, and Zelena's portal, yea, you could say I've had my fill of inter-dimensional travel." As she walked towards him once more, her smile began to fade. "Can we speak in your office?" Gold cleared his throat at the somber edge in her voice, his hands coiling instinctively, suddenly remembering he no longer had his cane. With a deep breath he steeled his nerves and smiled.

"Of course," he agreed, holding the curtain open for her. "After you…" A triumphant smirk pulled at her lips as she stepped passed him, a hefty and noticeable change in the air around her. She stood taller, held her head higher, not appearing at all nervous or uncertain. He had often told Emma that she was more powerful than she knew, and something tells him that she's recently tapped into it. It was as intriguing as it was unnerving.

"First things first…" she began, turning to face him, leaning back against his desk, "With all the chaos recently, and with you being controlled by Zelena, I never really had the chance to express my condolences for the loss of your son. I wish…I wish I could've saved him." He swallowed hard the sudden rise of his emotions – the pain they shared that day was still far too close. He wasn't able to attend the funeral and even now, he still hadn't visited his son's grave.

"That's very kind of you… thank you, Emma. But my son's death was not your fault." "Bae knew better than anyone that magic comes with a price. Though he may have been manipulated by Zelena, he made his choice and there was nothing you or anyone else could do to change his fate." The words were acid on his tongue, forcing him to accept the reality that his only son was truly lost to him.

She forced a tight, albeit sympathetic smile, shifting anxiously on her feet and looking anywhere but at him as she said, "Gold, I, um…I just want you to know that if you ever need to talk to someone about Neal, or about what Zelena did to you – if you can't or won't talk to Belle – you can come to me. I saw the cage she kept you in and I just…I want to help in any way I can." Though she was staring at her feet as she spoke, it was perhaps the most sincere statement he's ever heard escape her lips.

_Was he dreaming? Had _he _fallen into some bizarre, alternate reality? _"And why would you be so kind?"

"Well, we may not have had the best beginning, but I have a family and a home thanks to you. You saved Henry, you cured my father's dream shade poisoning. You sacrificed yourself and saved all of us from Pan; you made sure Zelena would never hurt anyone again. So, I figure this is the least I can do. Promise me?"

"I didn't stop Zelena," he replied carefully, "But, if it will make you feel better, I promise just the same…"

"That's actually one of the few reasons I came by; I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me for what?" Her gaze dropped to the ground momentarily, looking conflicted. The one thing about her that hasn't seemed to change is her difficulty expressing emotions, like him, she is far too guarded.

"My relationship with your son was…complicated. But Neal, or Bae, was a good man, he was your son and Henry's father and Zelena took him away from us. She was going to kill my baby brother and destroy all of us in that curse. Oh yea, I wanted her dead, but as Regina said, heroes don't take vengeance." He could only nod in reply, suspicious that she was setting a trap. Why else would the Sheriff waltz in here and declare how happy she was someone was dead?

"You said there were a few things…" he prodded, becoming increasingly unsettled at the sudden shift in her personality. Her expression turned serious. "Am I under arrest, Sheriff?" he teased anxiously.

"No, although you should be…" With her calm demeanor and the amused look on her face, he honestly couldn't tell if she was joking.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean that I watched the surveillance video, Gold. David told me there was an issue with the tape, but I wanted to see for myself. It looks like magic was only a temporary solution…." she said, keeping her eyes locked on his, no doubt looking for a lie, or an expression of guilt to back up her claim. This was a test, and she was using the oldest trick in the book. Did she really believe he would confess to murder so easily?

"I'm afraid I've no idea what you're talking about, dearie. The others were there; they'll all confirm that we saw the same thing – Zelena committed suicide."

"Oh fine, play innocent." She said, crossing her arms over her chest, "And don't worry, you don't have to break into the station and steal the tape. It got ruined while I was watching it and, well, it'll never be seen again." She stated glibly, looking more pleased with herself than concerned for her job.

"Destroying evidence is a crime, _Sheriff_, and if you're not arresting me, then you must want something." He said; his voice low and threatening. She shrugged dismissively, a crooked smile on her lips as she shook her head.

"Nothing for right now, but let's just say you'll owe me a favor – a big, monumental favor."

"Touché, dearie...you're learning…" Her smirk widened into a broad smile, as if gaining his approval pleased her.

There was a confidence about her now, reminiscent of the tenacity she had when she first arrived in Storybrooke. It's been far too long since he's seen this side of her, the part of her she seemed to lose after she broke the curse – the part of her he missed the most. They were a pair of desperate souls and he knew all too well that her confidence back then was but a thin veneer to mask her doubt and fear of inadequacy – that despite all her defiance, underneath it all she feared him. But this was something more.

There was a substance to it now coming off her in waves, a weight that he could feel around him in every step she took. The only time he ever felt as confident as she looked was when he gained the power of the dark one. This was the product of true love – the Savior in all her power – and she was offering to cloak his sin of murder. There was a game she was playing, though what it could be – or why – was lost on him. But at the devilish smirk on her lips – at the mischievous light in her eyes – his curiosity piqued. He was intrigued, and he wanted to play.

"Very well, in exchange for you keeping me out of prison; I will owe you a big, _monumental _favor." She pushed off his desk and held out her hand.

"Deal." A thrill coursed down his spine as she held his gaze, their hands joining in a firm grip. Without so much as another word, she released him and started toward the front of his shop. He let her go, his mind still trying to make sense of what just happened.

"Oh, there is one more thing…" came her voice. He turned to see her at the entrance to his office. "I heard a rumor that Belle has your dagger, but that's obviously not true." And with that statement he was no longer intrigued, but downright terrified. _So that was it… she was after his dagger?_

"What's your point, dearie?"

"The Dark One has his uses. Please don't give Belle – or anyone else – the real dagger. I would hate to see anything like this happen again." The alarms were sounding in his mind as he closed the distance between them, backing her against the wall. She held his gaze evenly, not the least bit phased or frightened, seeming to absorb his presence and turn it back against him.

"Miss Swan, I don't know what you're playing at…" he paused for the length of a breath.

"I know." She mumbled somewhat sadly before he could finish his statement. She smiled then, the determination and mischief returning to her eyes. "But you'll remember in time. I'll make sure of it."

"To what exactly are you referring?" he demanded, quickly growing tired of her game.

"We had a deal…"

"Our deal was done when you helped me find Bae."

"Yes, but you and I made another deal…when you helped me in the Enchanted Forest." He scoffed, laughing as he backed away, certain now that this was an elaborate joke.

"Well then, dearie that would be the first time someone owed me a favor that I don't know about…"

"Not if you drank a forgetting potion…" For the first time since she walked in, Emma was entirely serious, all hints of mischief and teasing now gone. He held her gaze, hoping he looked more intimidating than he currently felt.

"And why the hell would I do that?"

"To protect your future…" Now it was Emma who closed the distance between them, leaning so close to his face he thought she might kiss him. His body tensed instinctively, frozen in place as her lips caressed his ear. "Whenever you want help remembering – just let me know." A shudder coursed through him, the subtle scent of her perfume teased his nostrils as she placed a kiss to his jawline, pulling away with a truly devious smirk plastered on her lips.

His heart beat wildly in his chest as his breathing intensified, the skin still tingling like an electric current where Emma's lips had kissed him. _Kissed him,_ he repeated in his mind, _she had kissed him_. Emma Swan – the Sheriff and Savior who was barely able to tolerate him – had just kissed _him_. As his mind whirled he clenched his jaw, leveling her with an indignant glare.

"You're playing a dangerous game, dearie." He warned her once he regained his bearings.

"_We both are_…" she whispered, still close enough to kiss. The challenge was set her in eyes as she slipped from the wall, practically daring him to come after her – to find out what she was hiding behind that smirk. "Your secrets are safe with me. You know how to reach me." And with that she disappeared through the curtain and as the bell chimed, he watched her stroll from his shop like she just conquered a kingdom. Emma managed to do the impossible…and left him entirely speechless.

He released a trembling sigh and inhaled deeply as if her words had stolen his ability to breathe. The urge to chase after her – to make her tell him exactly what she knew that he didn't – was overpowering. She'd given him a taste of his own medicine, a taste he'd experienced only once before on the night he became the Dark One. Emma knew something he didn't; she kept some vital piece of the puzzle locked away. From experience, he knew it was a game changer, and he knew that when you want to close the deal, it's the one detail you don't mention. If it weren't for that fact Belle was waiting for him, than he would be hot on Emma's heels.

His mind became a whirlwind of confusion, fear, and rage as he locked the doors, walking the short distance to Granny's. What had he agreed to? What had happened in the Enchanted Forest that changed her so? The future hadn't been altered, well, as far as he could tell everything was still the same. He was still with Belle, Baelfire was still dead, Pan and Zelena were both defeated and no longer a threat. Had she changed something in the past that affects only them? If she did, what effect would that have on his, or _their_, future? Was that why everything suddenly felt so wrong with Belle?

It could be a spell or some residual magic that Emma brought back with her, or perhaps she was just playing a cruel game. There was no way for him to know for certain what had transpired between them, and perhaps Emma was counting on that in order to play her game. But the more he thought about it, the more it became increasingly clear that wasn't the case. She may have been overly flirtatious and suggestive, but everything she said about helping him was sincere, of that he was certain.

Once, not too long ago, just getting Emma to agree to _tolerate_ him was a monumental task. Now she is covering his crimes and offering god only knows what. He raked a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply as the bell chimed over the door. Nothing made sense.

Belle smiled and waved from the booth and his heart sank at the sight of her. With the exception of Bae, Gold finally had everything he'd ever wanted. Did he even want to know what Emma was talking about? Whatever happened between them clearly didn't affect the here and now. Was knowing really worth the risk?

Between Cora and Zelena, he'd had his fill of crazy women obsessed with him and with gaining power. All he wanted now was to settle down into the life that was finally within his reach.

"That was quick…" Belle said, smiling sweetly as he sat across from her.

"Yes, indeed." He mumbled, unable to meet her gaze, shifting anxiously in his seat. After nearly thirty years of coming here, he had the menu memorized, but he picked one up anyway if only for the distraction. Emma wasn't malicious or crazy, and she was nothing like Cora or Zelena, but he didn't know how else to make sense of her words or her behavior.

"I took the liberty of ordering for you…" Belle said softly. He nodded and forced a smile in thanks, his fingers drumming hard against the table as he set the menu back down. Belle reached out, her hand closing over his. "So, what did she want?"

"Hmm?" Finally, he lifted his gaze to see her look of concern. "Oh, nothing, the Sheriff just wanted to express her condolences for my son and to ask some questions regarding the death of Zelena." He explained quickly.

"Then why did she insist on speaking with you alone? I was a witness; I could've told her what we all saw, so could her own father." Belle huffed in frustration.

"Give her a break, Belle. Emma was just doing her job, and she is very particular in the way she does things." Belle sipped her iced tea, shrugging her shoulder in surrender.

"You know if I didn't know better, I might think that Emma and Princess Diana were the same person." She said matter-of-factly, stirring the ice cubes with her straw. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Of Wales?" she looked up and shook her head, laughing at his question.

"No, in our land, the princess who came to stay with us and study magic. They look like they could be twins." She rolled her eyes at his ignorance, "Don't tell me you don't remember. You said she was the most promising student you ever had."

"Oh, yes, of course – _that_ Princess Diana…" he lied, laughing lightly. Regina was the only student of magic he'd had, and she wasn't invited to live with him. If Belle remembered someone who he is almost certain didn't exist in the original timeline, then that destroyed his theory this was all a game.

"So, you're not in trouble, then?" Her grip tightened on his hand, her thumb stroking his skin lightly, drawing his attention.

"No, of course not."

"Good…that mess is all behind us now. We can finally move on – together." He tried to smile, his gaze fixed on their joined hands. This was all wrong, nothing made sense. The more he thought of it, the more his heart raced with the stress of not being able to remember, pulling his hand away from Belle.

He barely saw the slighted look on her face as Ruby approached the table, setting their meals before them. He nodded in thanks, the sight of the hamburger making him lose his appetite entirely. This had to be a dream, and at any moment, he hoped to wake up.

"So what did you want to ask me?"

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, his ire rising with his confusion. Her eyes widened in surprise, shrinking back slightly at his harsh tone.

"When you called me to come to the shop, you said there was something you wanted to ask me. It sounded quite important." She said, a small hopeful smile spreading on her lips.

"Oh, nothing. It was nothing important." Her smile faded as she nodded in resignation, turning her attention to her dinner. He had hurt her, the one thing he was consistently trying to not do, yet it was all he ever did, it seemed.

He wouldn't wait. As soon as Belle was asleep tonight, he was going to find out exactly what happened.

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><p>Again, I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to review. I thrive on constructive criticism, just be kind in your delivery. Not sure how many chapters this will be, but I'd say at least 3 or 4, unless the plot bunnies strike. :)))<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed/followed/favorite-ed this story. :))) I am so sorry to everyone for the delay in posting this chapter. School started and I, being a fool, took a LIT and a COMP class together, so I've been very busy with that. I've edited this chapter a ton, I wasn't happy with it for a while, but I hope you enjoy it! Feel free to review, leave constrictive criticism if you like. Enjoy!

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><p>There may come a day when falling through portals and being vaulted through space would be normal to her, or at least a little easier. Today, however, was not that day. Her limbs felt stretched beyond their natural capabilities and she feared she would be ripped apart by the gravity that propelled her forward, or down, or whatever direction she was falling in. Then suddenly she was free of the violent vortex, crashing dangerously close to an enormous tree trunk.<p>

For a moment all she could was gasp for breath, ensuring none of her bones had broken as she shifted onto her hands and knees. Other than extreme dizziness and a violent wave of nausea, nothing felt broken or out of place. With a heavy sigh, Emma sat back on her heels, taking in the lush green forest around her. She was alone – Hook had weaseled out of her grasp, leaving her to fend for herself. She can't say she's disappointed; the pirate has become like a second shadow and she'd been hoping to put some distance between them. Ending up in another world, however, wasn't exactly the kind of distance she had in mind.

Pushing herself to her feet, she dusted the dirt and leaves from her jeans, stopping dead in her tracks as her eyes focused on the tree before her. There, nailed to the bark was a hand drawn '_Wanted_' poster of her mother, looking like something straight out of an old western. Panic tightened its grip around her heart, swallowing hard the rising torrent of fear at the realization that not only was she in another realm – she'd travelled back in time. Zelena had stolen her magic and this time she didn't have her mother, or even Mulan and Philip to guide her. The chances of finding another magic bean or giant beanstalk housing a magical compass, she knew, were nil.

Crumbling the parchment in her hand, Emma took long, slow steadying breaths. She needed to find new clothes and fast, she hadn't forgotten being bound and dragged behind Philip's and Mulan's horses for hours, or the frightened, suspicious glares from the locals as they stared at her bizarre wardrobe. Emma began stumbling through the thick brush in search of anything that could help her._ Clothes first_, then she could start worrying about how to get home…in the future.

"Oh come on…" she murmured, as she stumbled onto a dirt road.

There was nothing in either direction down the desolate stretch of road; she didn't even know where to begin. Heaving an exasperated sigh she turned left, and began walking with no idea where she was heading. On her last visit to this realm, Mary had taught her how to tell the time by the position of the sun. It seemed silly at the time, but Mary seemed thrilled at the prospect of being able to teach her something, and so Emma didn't stop her. As the sun dipped closer to the tree line, she knew it would be dark soon, and for all Emma knew she'd be walking straight until sundown without encountering a single soul.

"So what have you been up to lately, Emma? _Oh nothing, just drinking magic memory potions, battling evil witches and falling through time portals. Same as usual_…" she remarked sarcastically to herself, kicking herself repeatedly for not taking Henry out of Storybrooke the moment Zelena was defeated.

Emma loved her family, but she wished more than ever that she had never returned to Storybrooke. The first time Henry brought her to Maine, Emma wasn't exactly thrilled, but she stayed for him and settled into a routine soon enough. Coming back the second time was infinitely harder. Her memories, though false, allowed the year she spent with Henry to be nearly perfect. For one blissful year, Emma had the life she always wanted, minus her parents. Regaining her memories ripped her heart out all over again with renewed guilt and regret, and she was desperate to get back to NY.

And now once more she was trapped in a land with no escape – with no magic and no way home to her family.

Emma stopped dead in her tracks as she came upon a fallen tree, completely blocking the road. As she attempted to walk around it, the galloping of horses and the shouts of their riders echoed around her. Emma fell back into the thick brush, ducking behind a tree for cover. She held her breath to avoid detection as they stopped at the fallen tree blocking their path. She recognized him the moment she saw him, her father, dressed every bit the prince.

A feeling of warmth and safety washed over her as he gave orders, instinctively wanting to rush to her father's arms. But before she could move, they were attacked, and the hooded bandit made off with one of the horses. Henry told her the story enough times for Emma to know that she just witnessed her parents _first_ meeting. The guards along with her father gave chase after the thief.

She laughed inwardly at her predicament, the last thing she needed to do was interrupt her parents meeting and jeopardizing her existence. Now all she needed was a silver Dalorean and a mad scientist named Doc and she'd be set. _No, not a scientist…a wizard_; _the most powerful wizard in any realm…Rumpelstiltskin_. As soon as the guards were out of sight, Emma made her way around the tree and back to the road, running as fast as she could. She ran until her lungs burned, until she was far enough away where no one could hear her.

"Rumpelstiltskin!" She called repeatedly, keeping her voice low so as not to draw attention.

"Here I am, dearie, so you can stop it with all that racket…" she spun on her heels at the maniacal voice behind her, expecting to see Gold in leather like in Neverland. And while the man before her was in leather, it was nothing like Neverland. Beneath the layers of green scales and gold-speckled skin she could make out the face of the man she knew, and suddenly Hook's nickname of the crocodile made a lot more sense.

"You…you're…" she stuttered, eying the leather pants, the boots that laced up to his knees, the spinning wheel scarf tied around his neck. His nails were a dull black as if they'd been painted with nail polish.

"I…I…I'm what?" he snapped, stepping towards her. She met his gaze, doing her best to appear strong and confident, hoping he couldn't sense her fear or read her thoughts.

"You're…Gold…I mean, you're not like I remember you." She stammered at a loss for words. His gaze traveled the length of her body and up again, taking in her odd wardrobe as he circled around her. She remained still, watching him as came to stand directly before her.

"Well that's fascinating given that we've never met." He said menacingly, leaning in closer, "Now tell me who you are before I turn you into a snail for wasting my time."

"My name is Emma Swan, and this is gonna sound crazy…but I'm from the future." He cackled maniacally, his fingers twitching as his hands made exaggerated gestures in the air.

"Crazy is an understatement, dearie. Time travel isn't possible…"

"Not yet…but someone cracks that code." His reptilian eyes narrowed at her and she held his gaze, hoping she appeared stronger then she felt.

"Who? Is it you? Are you witch falling victim to your own magic?"

"No, I'm not a witch and I didn't create the time portal. But I am the product of true love who breaks the curse…" A barely perceptible flash of recognition dawned in his eyes.

"What curse?" he asked, each word annunciated with a threatening edge.

"The one that you're planning to give to Regina so you can find your son…" His expression turned murderous, and Emma back up slowly as he approached her. If she thought Gold in all his fancy suits could be terrifying, Rumpelstiltskin was something straight out of a nightmare.

"Who are you? Not even Regina knows I'm creating that curse. And what do you know of my son?!"

"I told you, I'm the one who breaks it. Your son's name is Baelfire, the blue fairy gave him a magic bean that brought him to a world without magic…you were separated."

"If what you're saying is true…" his reptilian eyes widened, taking a step closer to her. "Do I find him?" Emma faltered, not knowing what to say. "Do I find him?!"

"Yes." She replied quickly.

"Bae…" he whispered, his eyes filling with hope and happiness. The smile that formed on his lips broke her heart, knowing how it would end. "I find Bae…" She tried to smile.

"But…"

"No, don't tell me. Don't tell me any more lest I screw up it." the softness faded from his eyes and Emma dropped her eyes to the ground. "Who created the portal?"

"I don't know. I was about to find out when they sent me here…" Emma lied. The sun was setting and it was getting darker. Emma had no desire to be alone here at night, lest she face another ogre. "Is there somewhere we can talk more privately?"

Without warning they were engulfed in a wall of smoke, and Emma found herself in a large room resembling an attic. Only it was several stories high, made of stone and pillars, and untold amounts of shelves filled with items she could only guess at. It was cold and dank, an odd, but musty smell permeating the dusty air. It reminded her of Gold's shop on a much larger, much more intimidating scale.

"Where are we?"

"The Dark Castle…specifically, the vault where I keep all the magic even I dare not toy with." Emma didn't like the sound of that. She'd been so concerned with finding him and getting help that the idea he wouldn't trust her or that he might imprison her had never even crossed her mind.

"The vault?" she asked, trying to suppress her fear.

"Well, did you really expect me to just invite you into my home?" he spun on his heels to face her, "There are many who wish me dead…" She rested against a long empty wooden table, the adrenaline was wearing off. The shoulder she practically landed on began to ache with a burning fury and she sighed heavily in exhaustion, closing her eyes.

"I promise I'm no threat to you. I just need your help to get back home. Trust me; I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here."

"Before I decide to help you, answer me some questions. Who are your parents?"

"Snow White and Prince Charming…or David, as Prince James…they were twins."

"Very good, dearie." He steepled his hands, drumming his fingertips together as he practically danced closer. "How old are you when you break the curse?"

"28."

"In your future, are we enemies or friends?" He was beginning to make her dizzy, the way he couldn't stand still, constantly pacing and circling around her.

"Um, well, both?" she replied questioningly.

"Both?" his eyes narrowed, his face scrunched in confusion. Emma sighed, not even she was sure how to categorize their relationship.

"Well, we tolerate each other and we're not close, but we're not enemies…although you did blow up a building I was in once with Regina."

"Hmm…" he gave her a long, scrutinizing look. Then, materializing a chair, he sat directly before her. "So, tell me everything..."

"You just said you don't want to know…"

"I don't want to know about my son…but I would love to know more about you and more importantly, how you got here."

"That's a long, _long_ story…" she said, her voice tired, hoping it would deter him. The last thing she wanted to do right now was recount all the misery of her life with the master of manipulation himself.

"Luckily for you, I'm immortal and I have all the time in the world." She rolled her eyes, pushing off the table and resuming her pacing.

"But I'm not and I don't have all the time in the world." He remained seated, pinning her with a dead cold glare.

"You're not leaving this vault until you answer me." She shook her head, leaning her elbows on the opposite side of the table, facing him.

Emma didn't tell him everything, keeping it to the bare minimum. She left out most of her childhood, mentioning briefly that she was an orphan. She told him of her arrival in Storybrooke, her rivalry with Regina, breaking the curse and all that came after it. Of course, she left out the bit where Neal is actually Bae and Henry is his grandson. She also left out Neverland and Pan, and the fact that Zelena has figured out time travel, on the off chance he seeks her out and ruins everything anyway.

"So will you help me get home?" she asked before he could respond to any of what she'd said.

"Help? You're the Savior dearie, why should you need my help? You have magic…" she closed her eyes, shaking her head.

"There was a curse that stole my magic…"

"Cast by whom?"

"The same person who sent me here; it was a set up. I was saving someone's life and they were cursed so that when I touched them it stole my magic." She left out that giving mouth to mouth to save Hook's life was how she lost it. Knowing some of their history, it was best to leave Hook out of things as much as possible.

"The thing about magic dearie is that it's not so easily removed. For someone who has learned magic as a student it's easier, but for someone who was born with it, especially the product of true love, it's in your blood. It's part of who you are and that is not so easily torn away."

"To be honest I haven't used it much…or really, at all." She admitted quietly.

"What?!" she flinched at his booming voice around them, deciding she wouldn't tell him of her disdain and disbelief in magic for most of her life. "How long have you been in this…Storybrooke?"

"About 3 years…"

"And how long ago did you break the curse?"

"About 2 years ago."

"And in all of that time I never taught you magic?" Emma suppressed the urge to laugh at his anger over such a small thing.

"We didn't exactly have that kind of relationship. You and I have a complicated history. Regina started teaching –"

"Regina?! Regina is teaching you magic? She can barely…" he paused for the length of a breath pinching the bridge of his nose, "Nevermind. What has she taught you?"

"She taught me to light a candle. She kind of just yells at me and just recently, she pushed me off a cliff so that I would use my magic to save myself." He gaped at her.

"This is a disaster. While we are searching for a way home for you, _I_ will be teaching you magic."

"Ok." She agreed excitedly. She couldn't explain the thrill that coursed through at the prospect of him teaching her magic. She remembers all too well the first time she felt the surge of the power inside her, standing in the back room of Gold's shop.

"Now that that's settled, allow me to show you to your room." Before Emma could even blink they were inside an extravagant ivory bedroom. There was what looked to be a queen size bed, covered in silk sheets with classic gold and green curtains that framed the bed and canopy. She had her own couch, vanity, and a tall window with its own balcony. He lit the fireplace with a flick of his wrist and Emma fell against the edge of the bed in wonder, taking it all in.

"Does it suit you, Princess?" came his voice beside her. Her eyebrows furrowed at the unfamiliar title and she let out a nervous laugh as she stood to face him.

"Oh, no…I'm not a princess…"

"You're the child of Snow White and Prince Charming, dearie, that makes you…" he leaned in closer as if he were about to share a secret, "…a princess." Despite herself, she smiled.

"I know, but the curse was enacted on the day I was born. We were separated, and I was sent alone to the land without magic and raised as an orphan."

"Hmm," A look of pained understanding filled his eyes, and for the first time, Emma understood why. Emma had learned so much more about his history when they were in Neverland, and despite herself, she couldn't help but see Gold in an entirely different light – as someone she understood. A sentence she never thought she'd ever say or think.

"Well, there is clothing in the wardrobe, if you're going to be here for any length of time you must blend in. But you should be seen by as few people as possible." She nodded, looking to the ornate wooden wardrobe. She smirked to herself, half expecting it to open its doors and burst into song. Then another thought struck her and she turned to face the Dark One.

"Do the clothes involve corsets? I've never worn a corset before I'm not even sure how to put it on…" If his skin wasn't green, Emma is quite certain he would be blushing.

He stammered, and Emma stifled a laugh at how flustered he became. Gold was the most frighteningly calm and collected person she knew, and she expected no one had ever seen the Dark One so nervous. So far removed from her family and responsibilities, Emma decided in that moment she was going to have some fun while she was here. Sifting through the drawers she pulled out a corset and held it up against her hips.

"Could you show me how it works, or help me put it on?" She walked towards him, donning her best confused, helpless, damsel in distress face.

He scoffed, looking anywhere but her as he replied, "I beg your pardon? Absolutely not; I'll have my maid assist you."

"But wouldn't Belle think it strange if I have no idea how to wear a corset?" He looked around in complete confusion, his amber lit eyes at a loss.

"How do you know B – nevermind. Judging by your current wardrobe, you have no problem wearing men's clothing." With a wave of his hand, Emma's turtle neck, red leather jacket and jeans were changed. "How's that?"

The leather pants were a bit binding, but she especially enjoyed the boots he'd given her, reminding her of her own. The shirt didn't exactly involve a corset, but the forest green silk was form fitting and accentuated her curves, giving Rumpelstiltskin an ample view of her chest. _Perverted old man_… she mused idly, biting her tongue.

"It's perfect." She smiled, grateful to be in anything but a dress and corset.

"Wonderful. In that case…" he turned and started for the door.

"Oh, um, Mr. G – er, Rumpelstiltskin…" he turned back, his eyebrow raised in silent question. "What's your price?" he giggled again, that smug smirk plastered on his lips.

"You have dealt with me before, haven't you?" Emma nodded, waiting for his response. "I haven't decided yet, generally I ask for a person's most precious possession, but since you have nothing here..."

"I could owe you a favor." She volunteered quickly, not wanting to sign a contract and give Henry away by accident or something worse. "Having the Savior owe you a favor is worth something, don't you think?"

"I'll think on it. Dinner is in ten minutes, dearie, don't be late." He vanished in red smoke with a wave of his hand. Emma couldn't wait to learn that trick – it would make her job so much easier if she could just teleport herself to wherever she is needed. She moved to the vanity studying her reflection in the small mirror, letting out a long sigh of relief to be somewhere safe and to have the help of the Dark One. She'd never get home without him.

For the time being, however, she is trapped here. She chews her bottom lip, beyond excited and equally terrified of what would happen in the coming days. She took a page from her parent's playbook and decided to be optimistic, to see this as an adventure and to enjoy every moment of it as they've so often done on their journeys. With one last deep breath she closed the wardrobe and headed to dinner.

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><p>Belle was home fast asleep, ensured by a sleeping spell that she would be oblivious to his absence. Her suspicion was the last thing he needed to deal with. It was close to midnight as Gold paced the floor of his office, still unsure what he intended to do. Would he threaten Emma? Just get his explanations and leave? Go back on the deal they made? His mind hadn't stopped reeling; he felt trapped and desperate for a way out like the spinner he once was – the man he swore he would never be again.<p>

"_Meet me at the shop_…" he demanded via text.

"_On my way_…" came Emma's swift reply – too swift. Was she as pensive as he, pacing a hole in the floor at the station or lying wide awake in her own bed? He rubbed his temples in exhaustion. He was far too emotional, he should have waited until he was rested, until his mind and senses were as sharp as he needed them. Emma already had the upper hand and he shouldn't play into her hands any more than he already has, but he needed answers.

A gentle but persistent knocking pulled him from his thoughts. _She must've been at the station to arrive so fast…_ he sighed heavily. It was too late now to tell her he'd changed his mind. He wouldn't allow her to see him nervous or frightened. Steeling his nerves, he inhaled deeply and opened the door.

"Miss Swan, so glad you could make it." He greeted with faux enthusiasm.

"Yea, well, it's not like I was sleeping." came her breathless reply as if she'd just run a marathon. She stepped into his office almost shyly, barely meeting his eyes as she slipped passed him, a complete one eighty from her earlier visit. He locked the office door behind her, watching her intently as she leaned back against his desk.

"I'll come straight to the point, shall I?" he said, coming to stand directly before her. "You caught me quite off my guard earlier, Miss Swan. I don't know what game you're playing but you won't win."

"I'm not playing any games." She stated evenly.

"Oh, really?"

"Really." She wasn't nearly as smug as she was this afternoon. She was quieter and much more subdued, leaving him to wonder if she had been under some residual spell after all.

"I haven't stopped thinking about our chat this afternoon, dearie, and I must admit I am very confused."

"Yea, I wanted to apologize for earlier, I don't think I should've told you anything yet." Once again, he was at a loss.

"So you don't regret that you told me, just that you did it too soon." She gave an uncertain, sheepish shrug of her shoulder. He heaved an aggravated sigh at her vague answers. This was getting him nowhere. Here he was expecting answers and was left with only more questions.

"You kissed me." He stated, needing that to be explained above all. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"You mean that peck on the cheek?" she giggled lightly, a sound he's not sure he's ever heard before. "That's nothing compared to…" she stopped herself, clearing her throat as her cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson. He quirked an eyebrow, intrigued to hear that sentence finished.

"Compared to what, dearie?" She avoided his gaze, pushing off the desk and pacing around his office. The Savior who had been so calm and collected only hours ago was now shaky and uncomfortable.

"Um, nothing, just…uh…I, um…" she stopped moving, swallowing hard as she focused on him, but avoided his gaze, "I've thought about you every moment since I got back, to be honest. It's why I waited a day or two before coming to see you. I just assumed that once I got home everything would be normal again." Her words came out in an exasperated jumble.

"Normal how…?" He asked, allowing her to change the subject for now.

"As normal as it ever is in Storybrooke…?"

"So, miserable and out of phase with reality…" he quipped.

"Sounds about right…" she quirked a smile, though her fidgeting fingers and slight pacing gave her away, "I just thought when I got back, my feelings – that _I_ – would go back to how I was before."

"Despising me, you mean…" She met his gaze then, looking genuinely upset she would suggest such a thing.

"No, but being wary, not trusting you…or just not actively thinking about you all the damn time." She nearly shouted, raking her fingers through her long blond hair. The realization stopped him in his tracks.

In all the time he's known her, never once has he seen Emma flustered around him – angry, cautious, vengeful and slightly murderous, but never flustered. But now, standing in the dim light of the lamp on his desk, he could finally see it. The air hung thick over an already supercharged atmosphere as he stepped toward her, unable to tear his eyes away.

It wasn't fear reflected in her eyes as he closed the distance between them – he dared not venture a guess as to what she was feeling. It unnerved him, excited him, and thrilled him in a way he couldn't define. Her body was trembling as her blue eyes locked on his for interminable silent moments, willing him to understand without words. He didn't know what was happening, but he was relieved to have gained some kind of upper hand. She backed into the wall, once again trapped between his body and the wall as he closed the distance between them, testing his boundaries.

"Will you please tell me what _exactly_ happened between us in the Enchanted Forest? What deal we made?" Now it was Emma's turn to be nervous, looking around frantically as if lost, uncertain herself of what she was trying to say.

"It's kind of unbelievable, Gold and not easily explained. But let's just say that you helped me get home…" She held her ground, not backing down despite her discomfort as he leaned in mere inches from her face, their bodies just shy of touching.

"And in return you owed me a favor…?" Emma nodded, a somewhat guilty expression on her face.

"What was it?" he prodded in her continued silence. His gaze drilled into hers, forcing a nervous laugh out of her as she turned away. Her answer didn't really matter now that he could see through her façade. The nervous way she refused to look at him, her fingers scratching against her palm.

"Is there a way to restore your memories rather than have me tell you? A spell? A kiss?"

"Kiss me?" he repeated incredulously, unable to suppress his mocking laughter. They were close enough; he could easily kiss her now. If he believed that she wouldn't arrest him on the spot for assault he might've actually kissed her. "You seem quite intent on kissing me all of a sudden, Miss Swan. Is there something I should know?" she rolled her eyes, attempting to push past him. His laughter stopped, he blocked her path.

"No, there's nothing that will restore those memories, no spell, no kiss." He answered, truly saddened and equally aggravated that he couldn't remember what had Emma so twisted in knots.

A light went off her in her eyes, "But maybe…" she tore away from him, rummaging through shelves and cabinets, "Do you remember when I thought you killed Archie?"

"Of course…" he remarked dryly as if he would forget.

"Where is that dream catcher you used on Pongo?" he scoffed, though not mocking her.

"That's a good idea, dearie, but the memories aren't there; that will be useless." She finally met his eyes.

"No, use it on me; then you could see my memories of what happened." He could only stare as she approached him, the determination set in her eyes. It was obvious she wanted him to remember and that in and of itself was a relief.

"You'll agree to that?"

"Yea, it won't hurt me, right?"

"Right…" The dream catcher materialized in his hand in a cloud of red smoke and as he brought it to her face, she pulled back slightly.

"It won't remove my memories, will it? It'll just, like, copy them?"

"Would you be devastated if you lost your memories of our time together?" he asked. At the anxious look in her eyes and the way she stepped back, Gold knew something serious had transpired between them. It only strengthened his resolve.

"It'll copy them…" he said, easing her mind.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing; you just wouldn't have always trusted me to go searching through your mind."

"A lot has changed…" she said, barely above a whisper.

"Obviously…" he mumbled, bringing the dreamcatcher to her face, "Try to focus your thoughts and memories on our time together…" Her eyes closed as the feathers caressed her face, tangling in the loose strands of her hair. It worked like a charm, the dream-catcher coming to life with Emma's memories – the answers to all his questions. But rather than watch a soundless run of images like a movie on mute, Gold attempted to transfer her memories directly to his own consciousness.

"Well, did it work?" Emma asked, studying him intently. Her memories were gone from the dream catcher, and nothing had changed.

"I don't think so…" Her face fell in disappointment as she forced a tight smile. Dropping the dreamcatcher to his desk he released an exasperated sigh. It would be easier to just absolve her of the favor she owed him, thus avoiding any fallout with Belle. But he was just so damn curious, and each visit with her only gave him more questions he wanted answered.

"You really aren't going to tell me?" he demanded outright.

"Of course I'll tell you. I just want to see if we can get you to remember first." The guilt in her eyes gave clear voice to the thoughts she couldn't say.

"I'm not a patient man…"

"Says the man who waited 300 years to cast a curse and then another 28 years for me to grow up, arrive, and break it." She replied; her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Be that as it may…" he couldn't help but smirk as the truth of her words sank in. She stepped closer to his desk, but kept a considerable distance between them.

"Look, Gold, I know you're confused and maybe even a little frightened of what I'm not telling you…" _Understatement_… "But please just believe me when I say it's nothing bad. Well, maybe a little morally questionable, but not bad. And I promise that I have absolutely no intention of hurting you or trying to control you with your dagger."

"What a relief…" he wanted to reach out and touch her, to brush the hair that had fallen over her face, just to see what would happen. He had a feeling she would lean into his touch rather than recoil from it, but instead he only gripped the edge of the desk tighter. "You will tell me eventually, right? If my memories don't return…"

"Yes, I will tell you." she promised.

"I'll hold you to that…" She smiled then, the first real smile he'd seen since she got here. "I must say, it will be nice for us to finally get along."

"That's one way to put it..." she mumbled, heading for the door.

He quickly followed right behind her, and leaned closer to her ear. "I beg your pardon?" Her eyes widened in surprise as she turned and then smiled.

"I said it's late and I need some rest." It was a lie, he knows what he heard, but he let her get away with it. "See ya later…" she said, unlocking and opening the door.

"Indeed, you will. I will pester you every day until I have my answers. Don't underestimate how persistent I can be."

"Good night, Gold…" she repeated, stepping through his door.

"Good night, Emma…" she smiled one last time, and disappeared into the night.

He closed the door behind her, inhaling deeply and releasing a slow steady breath and all the anxiety with it as he locked the door. He fell to the cot and dropped his head in his hands, relieved of most of the fear that had been rampant in his mind. It wasn't what he wanted to hear but it was better than nothing. He was far too restless and maybe even excited to discover what he'd forgotten. He laid down on the cot, resting his eyes for just a few minutes to calm down before he went home.

* * *

><p>I hope you enjoyed it! The next chapters are when the fun really starts and then obviously he will take her to the ball. I hope it won't be so long before the next post. :) Thank you again!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: HI! So sorry for the delay! This chapter was giving me a very hard time and I'm finally happy with it. I hope you are too! Rating is M for this chapter. Enjoy!

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><p>In the days since Emma arrived at the Dark Castle, they were no closer to finding her a way home. She was also no closer to understanding the bizarre arrangement of symbols in this book then she when she started. Among other things, she was far too distracted to read. There was an odd energy coursing through her. Perhaps it was the castle itself, or maybe it was her own magic reacting to the power of this place – or its darkness, but she'd never felt so alive.<p>

It was like she was bubbling over with an energy that not only made it hard to sit still, but that reignited her imagination – her curiosity to explore and understand the world around her. It was an overwhelming sense of wonder, something she hadn't felt since she was a child. In teaching her magic, Rumpel had her reading tomes and learning a new language. She didn't want to be cooped up in the tower, she wanted to be _doing_ something – floating candles or shooting fireballs and altering her appearance with a snap of her fingers. She glanced over; he was bent over a large tome filled with endless pages written in this gibberish.

Emma couldn't count all the horror stories she'd heard told of Rumpel by her parents and other town members. There is no doubt in her mind they are all true. But being here in his presence, no matter how intimidating he can be, she's found him oddly charming and child-like in his curiosity and selfishness. He was nervous and skittish, pretending not to look at her when she caught him watching her. There was pain and uncertainty in his eyes, a look she remembers but seldom saw. Gold was much better at hiding it than Rumpel, but here, his eyes are always so haunted it makes her ache with it. She didn't need to ask why; the loss of a child was something they shared.

Yet in spite of all that, unlike Gold, Rumpel makes her laugh to the point of tears. When he does, he stares at her with such open wonder, like she's a puzzle he can't quite solve. And when she flirts with him, the man is actually shy. Being around him, Emma feels younger, as though his child-like demeanor somehow removed the burden of being the savior from her shoulders. She feels lighter, more carefree than she has in far too long. He's cautious of her and she's fascinated and while she doesn't understand what's happening or why, she isn't even trying to fight it. They are such kindred souls in all they've lost and suffered – she understands him just as he understands her.

"What are you staring at?!" he demanded in exasperation, startling her from her thoughts. Emma slammed the book closed.

"Do I really need to know this language – whatever it is – to learn magic?" she asked, unaware how long she'd been staring. He faltered, as if he'd expected her to say something else. _Probably thought you were staring at his skin_…she chided herself.

"No, however, it is helpful in understanding what you're doing. It's like trying to build a house without a foundation – things will fall apart. Plus, most spells are written in it." His face crinkled at the last word, making Emma smile in spite of herself.

"Well, since I don't plan on casting any spells, I think it's a waste of precious time that I don't have. You told me once that magic comes from emotion, can't we just work with that?"

"You are a fiery one, aren't you?" His hands come up just under his face, his thumb and index fingers rubbing together as his eyes appraised her. That mischievous, suggestive smirk is the one thing he has in common with Gold. "Very well, we'll start –"

"Lunch is ready…" announced Belle, entering the tower carrying a tray.

"At last." Rumpel snapped as she set the tray on the table.

"Thank you." Emma made it a point to look at her and smile, but Belle wasn't looking at either of them. In the few days she's been here Emma had gone out of her way to thank Belle and be kind in Rumpel's incessant rudeness, and she receives little more than a terse nod and forced smile. She knows why; Belle _obviously_ already has feelings for Rumpel and Emma is getting in her way. Though in all honesty, seeing how he treats her, Emma can't understand how they fell in love at all.

"Will you be dining up here for dinner as well?" Belle asked.

"No, we'll be in the main hall." Rumpel replied.

"Will there be anything else?"

"You're dismissed." Belle didn't smile nor curtsey, glaring at Rumpel with daggers in her eyes as she turned to leave. Rumpel's gaze trailed after Belle as Emma settled onto the hard wood bench, squirming to find a comfortable place. Who is she to judge, anyway? This is but a brief snapshot in their long history. She herself has been flirting with the Dark One, knowing full well the risks she is taking. She can't help herself, or rather, she simply doesn't want to.

Finally giving up on making the seat more manageable, Emma focused on her food. Lunch was a simple affair; beef stew was the closest she could compare it to. There were fresh baked rolls and warm butter, a fresh pot of tea and small cookie like pastries. Compared to her last visit to this realm, the food was much improved and she was just grateful she wasn't lost in the Enchanted Forest, starving and alone.

"Hmm…" Emma looked up as Rumpel slid onto the bench opposite her. "You know, given how lonely my maid claims to be, I assumed that she would take a liking to you, especially since you're so close in age."

Emma had hoped to avoid this conversation, given how little she actually knows about their relationship.

"She probably feels threatened by me."

"Threatened? By you?" he cackled at the apparently absurd notion, "I'm the only one she need fear."

"Stop, it's obvious she doesn't fear you. I bet before I was here you were a big softy and the two of you were getting along just fine." Emma was going off her memories of Disney's Beauty and the Beast more than actual knowledge of their relationship. But Belle was a strong-willed woman; Emma can't imagine her falling in love with Rumpel if he treated her so awful all the time. Unless of course it was Stockholm Syndrome, which Emma hasn't entirely ruled out yet.

"And what do you mean by that?" Emma looked up, regretting her decision to open her mouth.

"Nothing."

"Tell me what you meant."

Emma sighed, swallowing a mouthful of bread. It was becoming a bad habit. No matter how Rumpel claimed he didn't want to know his future, he kept demanding his answers. She'd already told him, at least in part, about how he can't kill Hook due to how he aided in saving Henry. Neal was asked about sparingly and Emma told him the tiniest details of how they initially found him in New York. He was suspicious that she was holding out, but in the end he didn't press her.

"You and Belle fall in love." She stated bluntly.

"Me and the servant?!" he shot her an incredulous glare, and if there had been food or drink in his mouth, Emma is certain he would've choked on it. "How preposterous!" He returned his attention to his food, sipping a few spoonful's of soup.

"I'm just telling you what I know – which is not much where you two are concerned." Emma continued, keeping her demeanor impassive. He glared at her then, searching for a lie or a hint of mischief that Emma was teasing. When she gave none, he leaned in closer.

"It's quite the tale you're spinning, dearie. First you tell me that I need to let the pirate live and that I can't kill him because he's important at some _point_ with some_thing_. Now I fall in love with the maid?"

"Yep."

"You've made me lose my appetite." With an aggressive wave of his hand his barely touched soup along with her half empty bowl and tray were cleared from the table, leaving only tea and the dessert.

She bit into a cookie and smiled at him. "Are you sure you're not already in love?"

"She's a pest – useless, always milling about with her nose stuck in a book at every opportunity." He returned to the book he had been reading, thumbing through the pages as if he was actually reading them.

Emma rose from her chair, unable to deny she was enjoying tormenting him this little bit. She'd been flirting with him a little more each day, much to his chagrin. He reacted with the same awkward frustration and orders that she '_focus on the lesson_'. In this moment, she decided she wouldn't be flirting today, and that she would skip straight to action.

"I've never been one for books myself," She said inching closer as he thumbed through a spell book, "I'm much more _action_-oriented."

"Well, that's good to…" when he straightened and looked at her they were mere inches apart, her close proximity startling him as he stepped back, "…hear." Emma stepped closer and he again stepped back. He seemed genuinely nervous and so Emma stayed put, leaning her elbow on the book he had been reading.

"What am I like in your world? Tell me truly." He asked quietly. She smiled, not the least bit surprised he was changing the subject.

"Well, you own a pawn shop full of all the trinkets from your various deals in this world, and you're the richest, most powerful man in town." An appreciative smile spread on his lips, pleased to hear he doesn't lose much in the way of power or possessions. "You look normal, quite handsome actually, and though you are always calm and collected, you are cunning and calculating and manipulative."

"Stop flattering me…" he teased, and Emma couldn't help but laugh. "I sound dreadfully boring."

"Ha! Boring is the last word I'd use to describe you. Out of everyone in Storybrooke you're the most unpredictable. Other than Regina, you're the only one who keeps me on my toes."

"Your toes?" Emma nodded. She'd used quite a few expressions that left him scratching his head.

"Yes, it just means that you've forced me to keep a good portion of my energy and focus on what you're doing."

"And do you flirt with me as incessantly as you are now?" he demanded, the mischief in his eyes betrayed the frustration in his voice.

"No, I told you – we tolerate each other. It's kind of complicated, but you did tell me once that you like me."

"I do like you…very much." Emma could feel her smile ear to ear at his words. He quickly cleared his throat, closing his eyes as he avoided her gaze. "What else did I say?"

"You told me I was charming."

"Must run in your family." He replied sardonically, and Emma allowed herself to laugh as she stepped closer to him once more. He backed up, "Are women in your world always so brazen with men they aren't in love with?"

"Not always, depends on the situation. But love isn't always a factor when two people hook up." She wasn't looking for romance and she wasn't fooling herself. She knew exactly who and what he was, as well as the risks in what she was asking. There was something she wanted to try, though, something she wanted to taste, and she knew Rumpelstiltskin could give it to her. She hoped he was willing. There was some terrible magic here that made her feel whole and complete and incredibly sexy.

The question was whether she was willing, whether she was ready to take the chance. It was just sex, something distracting that felt good when everything else felt so bad – something she hadn't had since before her arrival in Storybrooke. She'd been a little girl once with thoughts of dashing knights rescuing her from the dungeons of endless foster homes, where her foster 'parents' were evil sorcerers and witches that held her in captivity. Here she was, seducing an actual evil sorcerer – the most powerful in any realm.

"You know, I've never had to work so hard to get a man to kiss me before." She said as they once again ended up on opposite sides of the table. She was beginning to get dizzy from chasing him around in circles in the small space.

"I believe you." He took a step closer to the table, as if her might lean in and do just that. She could see the conflict in his eyes, the desire as well as his doubt. He had no reason to believe she actually wanted this beyond playing some cruel game for her own entertainment.

"You still haven't told me your price for helping me."

"I haven't decided yet." He didn't back away this time as Emma rounded the table.

"Well, there is _one_ thing in this world I can pay you with." She said, stopping just shy of their bodies actually touching. He swallowed hard and clenched his jaw, his gaze sweeping the length of her body, and she knew he understood her meaning.

"And why wou1d you make such a…_tempting_ offer?" he asked thickly, his voice as deep as she'd ever heard it.

"Well, I _am_ just a flesh and blood woman and you are just a man, after all, and I'm afraid I have nothing else to pay you with…" she used her best imitation of a damsel in distress she could muster, and though he smiled, it was a sad thing.

"But I'm not just a man…" he turning his back on her then, and returned to his book of potions. He was certainly _not_ making this easy for her, but she wasn't deterred.

"You forget…I've met the man behind the mask and I'm sure…you still have needs…"

"Is this why things are complicated between us?" Rumpel huffed, backed against a wall full of books.

"No, they're complicated because sometimes you help me, and others I can't tell whose side you're actually on." He seemed to relax at that and that crooked little smirk pulled at his lips.

"I'm on _my_ side, dearie…so I side with whoever's cause helps me help mine." He studied her a moment and she could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. "I don't know what you're game is, dearie, but I should warn you…"

"Save your warnings for someone who needs them." Emma interjected firmly. His eyes widened in shock at her brazen behavior. "Let me be frank,"

"Who's Frank?"

"Just listen to me for a moment," Emma stifled the urge to laugh. She met his gaze, making full well she had his attention, feeling as though she was taking her life into her hands with the next statement. "I know a little about your history with women. I know about Milah and Cora. I don't know everything, but in my world, people sleep together without emotional entanglements. Wasn't it you who told me to avoid emotional entanglements because they're dangerous?"

"What, two people just meet and make love and leave?" he looked horrified at such a prospect.

"Pretty much…one night stands were all I ever did." Sadness filled his eyes, the exact opposite of what she wanted him to feel. "You're already helping me, I don't need or want anything from you…well save for one thing…"

"That's entirely inappropriate…" Emma faltered at his words, feeling for the first time she'd misread things between them. As shy as he was when she flirts with him, his eyes told her he felt as much lust and desire toward her as she feels towards him. Perhaps she had misread what his eyes were telling her; it wouldn't be the first time her superpower failed her.

"Forgive me, I thought you were interested." She'd barely stepped back to turn away. With snake like reflexes, he pulled her hard against him, bringing his face mere inches from hers.

"You're playing a dangerous game, dearie." He said, their lips practically touching, the challenge set in his eyes.

"We both are…" she replied evenly, not the least bit frightened. She'd learned his bark was far worse than his bite.

"If we do this, it'll be because you _want_ to. I won't accept it as your payment. You will still owe me a favor."

"I want this. I thought I'd made that obvious…"

"I didn't believe you."

He didn't move as she leaned in, kissing his cheek first to let him get used to the sensation, to the close proximity of her body flush against him. When he didn't flinch, she cupped his cheek with her left hand as she moved her lips to his ear, along the edge of his face to his jaw. His skin was so warm, surprisingly soft despite its scaled appearance, and entirely human beneath her lips. She met his gaze, his confused, wondrous gaze.

"Do you believe me now?" she breathed against his lips. His eyes glazed over, then all at once his eyes softened as he refocused on her face.

"You really don't have anyone?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

"Nope," she replied, a sharp edge to her voice. His hand reached up, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers.

"But you're so beautiful…" his finger trailed down her cheek as he whispered, "How is it that someone so good could be so…lonely?" his words cut straight to her heart. Of course he would assume that just because of their appearances she was desired and he was not. Her little game lost its edge, and she suddenly wanted to make love to him for an entirely different reason.

"Being good and beautiful doesn't make me any more worthy of love or affection than you. I've been broken too, and abandoned. Loneliness is just another of the many things we have in common."

His eyes remained open as her lips pressed over the tight line of his mouth, and she pushed gently to separate them. A barely audible sigh ghosted against her skin, feeling the slight trembling of his body against her. Emma might have pulled away if his lips didn't part at that moment, moving in response to hers. A hand rested on her hip, loose, and she waited for it to wrap around her and hold her. It didn't.

The odd thing – the truly sad thing – was how nervous he actually was. Rumpel, like Mr. Gold, was labelled a monster, a deviant; he was rumored to be perverted and abusive to the women he entered deals with. Nothing could be further from the truth. He may be evil, he may know how to control the darkest of magic, but in this – in a sweet, chaste kiss, he is wholly innocent. Their lips had barely brushed, but to him, it was something much more powerful…and she felt it, too. She didn't know how to lead them from that kiss to what she was offering. In a bizarre twist of events, she felt _she_ was corrupting _him_ somehow.

Rumpel's kiss became more ardent, more confidant when Emma didn't pull away, when he realized she wouldn't deny him. His passion, pent up so long and tentative, now came out, and his kiss became more sensual and delicious than any man before him, worshipful and loving. His arms slipped around her, pulled her tight against him. His lips were soft, but they were eager, and they slid from Emma's mouth, down over her jaw to the side of her neck.

While the last thing she wanted to do was stop him, Emma felt suddenly uncomfortable continuing. It was one thing when the one night stand was a stranger she would never see again. But when it was a man who was as emotionally guarded as she, with walls built for similar reasons, she thought twice. The last thing she wanted was to be the next woman who used him for her own selfish gain and abandoned him; he didn't need any more pain. She still wanted him; she'd given him a taste of what she was offering. She needed him to come to her, for it to be his choice to take what she desperately wanted.

It was just another shift in the power play between them and right now, she was relinquishing the lead. He groaned hoarsely, his head falling back against the wall.

"What's wrong?" she asked, when he stopped abruptly. He looked conflicted; his eyebrows furrowed making him look like a lost puppy.

"Perhaps we should continue with your lessons." He said, avoiding her gaze. Emma acted upset, hiding her relief that he stopped before she had to. He'd likely take it as rejection masked as caring. And she did care, she realized, she cared a great deal.

"I liked what you were doing just fine." A small smile formed on his lips.

"Did you?" she nodded enthusiastically, running her thumb over his lips. His fingers curled gently around her wrist, pulling her hand from his face. "Perhaps we can continue this in a more appropriate and private setting at a later date and time."

"Of course. My offer is always open." he smiled and with a curt nod, held out his hand in the direction of the table covered in potions and books.

"Shall we?" Dread replaced the racing of her heart, still wanting to get out of this stuffy tower. "Before I forget, there is a ball being held in celebration of the engagement between Prince James and Princess Abigail in a few days' time. I would like us to attend."

Fear and excitement filled her at once. "Wouldn't we stand out? Shouldn't I be avoiding my parents – god forbid they see me and I ruin the timeline."

"I assure you, we will be perfectly safe. So would you accompany me to the ball?" A broad smile formed on her lips as she nodded.

"I'd love to."

* * *

><p>The torch burning on the stone wall was a clear indication of where he was. It was the dark castle; he was in his own bedroom complete with the nailed curtains over the windows and the deep shades of green and gold velvet he decorated with. It was just as he remembered. What didn't fit in was the extravagant red ball gown was draped over the canopy, and the sight of Emma in his bed, naked, curled alongside Rumpel's equally naked body. Well, at least their top halves were naked, beneath the sheet he couldn't see more.<p>

Gold hung back in the shadows, confused beyond belief at what he was seeing. Emma's leg was draped carelessly over Rumple's, her fingers lightly drawing circles on his bare chest. Her pale skin was a sharp contrast to the shimmering hues of his scaled skin. She didn't look disgusted or frightened, in fact, she looked entirely at peace. He can't ever remember seeing Emma look so calm, so happy and – dare he say – satisfied. He all but held his breath, unable to move – unable to look away.

"Do I love her?" Rumple asked, his nails dragging over the smooth skin of her back.

"Who?" Emma's eyes opened, confusion marring her angelic features as she lifted her head to see him.

"Belle…you said that we end up together. Do I love her?"

"I don't know, you seem to…" she replied, resting her head to his chest once more. Rumpel gathered the hair from her shoulder, trying to see her face.

"But…?" she shrugged her shoulder.

"I don't know enough about the two of you to judge."

"But you have something to say on the matter, nonetheless. Tell me…" Emma lifted her head at that, propping herself up on her elbow to look down at him.

"I don't know much about your relationship, but from the little I know…" she paused, her gaze conflicted, "Actions speak louder than words, and sometimes…sometimes it just seems that even though Belle talks a good game about 'true love' and that she accepts you unconditionally along with all aspects of your dark personality/curse, whatever; she also seems to spend a lot of time trying to tame you, emotionally manipulating you into being 'nice' when we all know you'd like to kill someone."

"The Dark One could never be tamed…" Rumpel said sharply. Emma laughed.

"Just you wait and see…it's actually kind of painful to watch."

"Painful? Does it hurt you to see me so subdued?" Gold watched mystified as Rumpel's hand caressed her face, toyed with her hair, and how Emma just smiled at him, basking in his touch.

"It just bothers me that Belle has you convinced that you are some monster and that she alone can save you. And I'm not saying Belle doesn't love you, she just isn't very realistic about it. But I think…I think you stay with her because you believe that no one else could – or would – ever love you."

Rumple lifted a hand to her cheek, smoothing the hair from her face. In Rumpel's eyes was the same wonder that Gold currently felt at hearing her words. It never occurred to him that Emma noticed him and Belle, and he certainly didn't know that was what she thought. But the more he considered her words, the truer they seemed to become.

"Do you not think me a monster?" he asked.

"No, I don't think you're a monster." Her words were firm, full of conviction and not a hint of irony.

"I've done some truly terrible things, and as you know, I plan to do more."

"You also do some pretty heroic things."

"Like what?"

"I can't tell you, but just trust me when I say you're not a monster – not completely." Rumpel studied her as Emma placed a kiss to his shoulder.

"You said that you don't believe Belle truly accepts all my darkness. Are you saying that you would?"

"I've always felt a little closer to the darkness; I guess I understand it a little more than I should. It took me a long time to believe that I was the Savior, and even though I accepted the title, I never felt strong. There was so much that changed in my life so fast that I couldn't catch my breath, but I never felt good."

For a long moment Emma was silent, and Gold held his breath as he waited for Emma to continue. He never expected to hear such an unguarded confession, feeling like he was invading a private and intimate moment that he had no right to witness. Even though it was initially shared with him, he didn't remember it. Though, it was an odd dream, as Gold seemed to be unable to move or speak, or do anything except watch the scene play out.

"I don't know, in my mind I always felt like a hypocrite, like I was pretending to be something I wasn't." she finished at last, not quite looking Rumpel in the eyes. His black nails traced lightly over her porcelain skin, along her jaw, coaxing her to look at him.

"You're the Savior, dearie. You're inherently good." Rumple whispered. She shook her head.

"But that's just it, though. I may be _inherently good_, but that didn't make me a hero. For years I was angry, afraid, bitter, alone, and I would've left that entire town to remain cursed if things happened differently. I grew up in a world where very little is black and white. Good people can be bad, bad people can be good. You can be a good man, and you use the power for good when needed. I would never take your free will from you, or manipulate you to do what I wanted and I also know that you don't really want to part with the power…"

She rolled over him, her bright green eyes shining mischievously in the firelight as she settled on top of him, her thighs planted on either side of his hips. Bracing her hands on either side of his head, she pushed herself up; a wicked grin spread across her lips. She reached down and grabbed his wrists, pinning them above his head. Her actions had the deliberation of a demonstration, seeming intent on teaching him a lesson of some kind.

A curtain of blonde wavy hair fell around them, blocking his view. _God he misses her curls_… he thought, taking a step to his right, and suddenly, Rumple was gone and Gold found himself in bed with Emma on top of him. Beneath the sheets, he discovered, they were entirely naked.

Silhouetted by the firelight from the torches she was a terribly dramatic sight above him, her blond hair spilling over her fair skin. He couldn't speak his own thoughts; he couldn't move to stop her as she leaned closer. It was then he realized this wasn't a dream, but a memory – Emma's memory. The dream catcher worked, it just stored her memories in his subconscious, a fact that was suddenly irrelevant as she moved down until he could feel the heat and humidity of her pussy over his cock.

There was no power in her hold; she wasn't trying to restrain him. If he really wanted to escape he could, but to be beneath her shot a thrill of excitement through him. A soft moan escaped him, her hair tickling his arm as she licked her way down his throat to his chest, nibbling here and there. Her tongue flicked out and gently teased his nipple and his hips instantly pushed up into her.

"Again, love?" came the words unbidden from his mouth. She rose up slightly and gazed at him, her eyes glassy with need – lips parted, breathing fast and ragged.

"Again," she giggled, then lowering herself down she nuzzled his neck, "And again…" she cupped his cheek in her hand, gently kissing and biting along his throat to his jaw – soft, urgent nips, as if his skin were covered in chocolate and she was desperate for sweets. "And again…" Her head dipped once more, and he caught the flash of desire in her eyes as her lips caressed his.

His eyes closed, surrendering to the kiss that was as gentle as a breeze, asking nothing of him but to receive what she offered. Her hand fisted in his hair as the next movement of her mouth brought a little more pressure; his lips parting to feel the tip of her tongue teasing his lower lip. He whimpered softly into her mouth, her hips rocking gently against his growing arousal.

"As often as we need to until you accept that you are worthy to be loved and accepted for exactly who you are, with no expectations to abandon a darkness that is part of you."

He bit back a groan and reached up to still her hips with his hands. A quiet chuckle bubbled from her and his hold tightened, enjoying the feel of her breasts pressing against his chest. He could feel her heartbeat, steady at first, but soon matching the frantic pace of his own. Before this moment he had never imagined what Emma might be like in bed. But if he had, he's fairly certain he would have assumed she was more of a wild temptress. And for all he knows, she is. This is but one memory, and a tender one at that.

A coarse groan escaped his throat; his fingers tightening instinctively around the back of her neck, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. He wrapped his arms around her – one across her shoulders and the other under the curve of her bottom. The movements weren't his own and he nearly panicked, feeling as though he was taking advantage of her despite that he had no control. But as she lifted her hips a fraction of an inch and arched her back, sliding down to cover his hardness completely, those feelings subsided. He welcomed such an intimate experience deep into his soul.

"Emma…" His breath hissed through clenched teeth as she wiggled a bit, peeking at him through her lashes as she teased him. _Temptress, temptress, she was definitely a temptress…and a cruel one at that…_

He let his hands slide from her hips to the small of her back and then down her ass; exploring her body, delighting in the softness of her skin, the way his touch was exciting her, pleasing her. Cupping one cheek, then the other, he squeezed them tightly, massaging the small, soft globes with his palms. They were as perfect to him as the rest of her, and he needed to touch and feel them, there and lower, lightly brushing his fingertips against her sex. His need for her was growing, and the way her voice rose higher, more insistent, he could sense her need was growing as well. His hands drifted down, tracing over her thighs only to return to the small of her back.

A thrill coursed through him when he felt her muscles tighten as she began to move against him, raising herself up on her knees. Gentle fingertips gripped his hard length, guiding him to her entrance. He stopped breathing, memorizing the feel of her body yielding to him, stretching around him as he filled her. The excruciating slowness of her movements nearly sent him over the edge. His hands held her hips, not moving as he remained buried in the tight warmth pulling him in deeper.

Their breathing was ragged but synchronous with one another, her breath ending in a whimper with each stroke. He pushed into her again, feeling her tighten around him as she breathed his name and arched her back, grinding her hips into his, her fingers digging into his chest. She lifted off him completely only to slide back down, grinding hard against him, and arching his own back, he thrust into her as deeply as possible.

"If you continue to try and prove your point in this manner, Princess, I will _never_ learn my lesson." he said, and Emma laughed lightly.

"Whether you learn your lesson or not, I won't stop making love to you." She grabbed his hands, grinding against him and moaning aloud as she placed them on her breasts. They were beautiful; the perfect size with pert little nipples, fitting his hands as if they were made for him. His hands cupped her and she clamped down on him as her head fell back.

"You can't promise such a thing."

"Yes I can…" He released a low growl. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she pulled him into her completely with a squeeze of her thighs. She pulled his mouth to hers in a feral kiss as he moved inside her. He started slowly at first…gradually moving faster, filling her more completely with each stroke. "I won't hurt you."

"But you will, dearie. As soon as we find a way, you will abandon me, too. Just as they did…" it was getting harder to speak as Emma continued her movements.

"It's not abandonment, you'll just need to wait about thirty years, and then I'll be all yours again."

"Do you promise? And please don't promise such a thing if you –" she silenced him with a kiss.

"I promise."

Moaning her name, he thrust into her again as if this alone could ensure that she was well and truly his. This body was a prison, as he wanted nothing more than to lay her out beneath him and taste every inch of her gorgeous body – to bury himself inside her and make this last as long as possible. But watching her above him, feeling each roll of her hips against him, each breathless whimper that shuddered through her – a more exquisite sight he had never seen.

The only thing he knew in that moment was that he wanted her, and he didn't know how much until he saw that look on her face, felt her pussy pulling him deeper, heard the desperation in her voice as she moaned his name, '_Rumpelstiltskin_', feeling those sharp nails dragging down his chest. One more stroke and she collapsed on top of him, her arms wrapped tightly around him and her legs held him firmly in place.

He climaxed quietly with Emma's lips still around him, no screaming of names, breathless gasps for air, or deep thrusts inside her. Instead, subtle warmth spread from his belly to his toes and up to fingers. It melted his bones and filled him with a peace and adoration he can't recall feeling for anyone else. Even with Milah when they were young, before she hated him, he never felt so loved or cared for.

"I've thought of my price for helping you – the favor you'll owe me…" said Rumpel breathlessly, surprising himself.

"Anything." She smiled down at him, and Gold couldn't wait to her what the answer would be. It would be one less mystery to solve. Her fingers were lacing through his own, squeezing and holding tight.

"Exquisite, isn't she?" asked Rumpelstiltskin from beside him.

Gold jolted away, awakening uncomfortably stiff and incredibly turned on by such a vivid dream. He was still at the shop, infuriated that he had been so close to getting his answer only to be denied. Digging his phone from his pocket he considered calling Emma, but given the late hour, or technically, the early hour; he would need to wait until tomorrow to see her. The sun would be rising shortly, and he decided to stay at the shop. He wouldn't risk having Belle overhear or see if he reacts to another dream of Emma. And the idea of making love to Belle while thinking of Emma just made him cringe with guilt.

He crashed back to the cot, draping his elbow over his eyes. He breathed deeply to slow his heart rate, hoping to dream of at least a few more of Emma's memories.

* * *

><p>(So in case there was confusion: Gold is dreaming and is at first watching Rumpel and Emma. Then he starts experiencing and living the memory with her.) I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry for the little tease in Emma's POV, but its my headcanon that Rumpel is completely awkward and inexperienced when it comes to women, so at least for the first attempt, I felt it needed to wait :) It will get better I promise. As of now there are at least three more chapters to go, most of them smutty goodness, but we'll see if inspiration hits and I write more. :) Feel free to comment! (I am so nervous when it comes to writing sex scenes, so especially in these chapters, I really appreciate feedback! Thanks to everyone who has reviewedfavorited/followed this story! I really do appreciate it! :)))


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry again for the delay, this chapter kind of got away from me. This ch. alone is like 30 pages and nearly 14,000 words and I hope you enjoy them all. :)) Definitely an M rating for this chapter. I also did things a bot differently as most of the story (both past and present is told from Gold's POV.) Enjoy :)

* * *

><p>He'd woken earlier than usual with a restless energy crackling through his limbs. He tried to attribute it to lack of sleep or that his darkness was reacting to Emma's light magic. But he knew it was something else; it was Emma. It would have been nice to be able to pretend that was the case, but his waking thoughts were occupied by the feel of her soft lips on his, her eager hands pulling at his hair, and how perfectly her body molded to his. Clearing the thoughts from his mind he appeared in the tower, relieved to find that Emma wasn't there.<p>

Without her there to tease and tempt him, he took full advantage of the opportunity to focus only on finding her a way home. Every moment she was here all of their futures were in jeopardy, not to mention his sanity. He lost himself in the tomes of magic; Belle had come with breakfast, which he ate and cleared away, and Emma was still nowhere in sight. _This was good_, he thought, reminding himself that he _wanted_ to be alone.

Although, as time ticked on, he was discovering just how distracting her absence actually was, as his curiosity was driving him mad. What magic and mischief was she getting herself into? The idea that she was searching for his dagger entered his mind, and he left in search of her; ignoring his own good sense, drawn like a scent hound after prey. His demeanor remained casual and aloof as he appeared in her bedroom, only to find it empty and the bed made. He appeared in the main hall to find Belle polishing the dining table.

"Where is she?" The maid didn't even look up.

"I haven't seen her since dinner last night," came the curt reply. Rumpel turned to go, then stopped, spinning on his heels.

"What is it you have against her?" Belle looked up, genuinely surprised at his question.

"Nothing. I don't even know her."

"Then drop that scowl that hasn't left your face since she arrived." Without giving her a chance to reply, he vanished in a cloud of smoke.

He checked the tower once more, just in case she was waiting for him to leave it, but she was of course, not there. Then it occurred to him, and in a flash he was outside the castle walls.

He should've known he'd find her outside given how often she'd complained of being cooped up. It was a sunny day, but dismally cold and she was hardly dressed appropriately. Her hands lacked gloves, her skin red with the cold, and she wore a deep green velvet robe, not unlike her father's. She stood by the stream that ran through the mountains near his castle, having separated the water into two separate walls that were climbing higher and higher. She was learning quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. At this rate she might surpass him and then she would no longer require his help. The thought made him cringe; he is not yet ready to be rid of her presence here.

She must have felt his approach because she glanced over her shoulder at him, laughing hysterically. "I feel like Moses!"

"Who?" he asked, standing behind her, ignoring the twinge of excitement in his gut.

"The guy who parted…" she looked at him, "Never mind. Just a myth from my world." She turned back to the water, not dropping her hands; the break in her focus to speak with him did not affect the magic she was performing. She was indeed learning too fast.

He was close enough to catch the subtle scent of flowers as the wind blew passed them. All her long hair was pulled into a loose bun; the blonde, loose wisps of curls escaping and drifting along the nape of her neck distracted him. If he could just tear his eyes away from...

When his gaze finally focused on the magic she performed and they fell into relative silence, he thought he had won and overcome the distraction.

That was until the soft scent of flowers drifted towards him again, mixed with some mysterious other thing that he instinctively knew was her, waking a sudden hunger that ached where he thought he'd lost all taste, leaving him dizzy; stunned. That's when he realized that not only was he still capable of noticing anything feminine, but he was now completely and irrevocably focused on one particular woman. He had to catch his sudden intake of breath.

The logical half of his mind told him to turn and leave now, but the other half needed to feel – he needed to taste – just once. Mesmerized, he stared at the base of her throat where her pulse beat, where all that life and power rushed through her veins, calling out to him. He took one small step and bent his head, his mouth finding the soft flesh on her neck. He meant just to taste – just one small taste, but the surge of possession took over, and he was biting down, his teeth sinking gently into her unblemished skin, caressing it with his lips, claiming it.

A sharp gasp escaped her and his arm wrapped firm around her waist, catching her as she fell back against him. The walls of water came crashing back to the ground, her focus broken. The shame of her refusal and rejection never came, because in fact, she wasn't fighting him. She was actually absorbing him, drawing him in. The thread of light intensified, burning behind his closed eyes, threatening to consume him whole.

He released her in a wave of panic and returned to the tower in a puff of smoke. His body trembled in fear, anticipation, arousal, and confusion; he should never have left in search of her. His chest rose and fell in quick pants, slightly dizzy until he could catch his breath. Rational thought returned when the raging heat in his body began to subside; he'd just fled like a coward and left her there. He could've hurt her; she probably hated him and was on her to tell him just that. He shook his head, burying his face in his hands.

The women who raised him told him often to respect women, and he always did. He never hurt Milah while they were married, nor Cora. He'd been a bastard and broken hearts of the women he made deals with, preying on their fears and affections. But he had never been physically violent like that...never had he done such a thing to a woman, and Emma especially didn't deserve it. He knew this, but he couldn't unhear her soft gasp as his teeth bit into her skin; the barely audible moan, that strange feeling that she was accepting him – utterly and completely.

He waited for her to come charging in, naming him for the monster he is. But minutes pass, then hours. He's skipped lunch and dinner and can't bring himself out of this temporary cage. Every time he thought he'd gotten his mind absorbed enough in magic spells and ways to travel through time, he'd feel the pull. He'd catch himself staring at the seat she's occupied these past days, teasing him and barely learning a thing he taught her. Yet she was getting better; stronger.

Waiting for a battle with the Savior wasn't the only thing on his mind. He'd been experiencing a slight problem since her arrival. It wasn't anything serious, at least he hoped not. If he was honest with himself – something he wasn't particularly willing to be in this moment – he'd have to admit to being scared out of his the real reason he couldn't take Emma up on her offer, was that just the idea of it made him feel alone – deeply, painfully alone. There was no promise of more, just a moment's pleasure and then back to being strangers.

And now, his deepest, darkest fear was that somewhere in that glow of divine light he'd lost his advantage. He needed to know he could still exist as an island, with no dependency on anything or anyone. Perhaps Emma was right, perhaps it was better with no emotional entanglements, no expectation for more than they could give right here and now. Even as he thought it, he doubted the wisdom of it, but right along with the threat of loneliness, the old pain came seeping up through his mental floorboards.

He's lived for near three hundred years without physical intimacy, and as evidenced by what he just did, he lacks self-control. But he couldn't hide forever, this was after all, his castle. He appeared outside her door, only to find it slightly open. There was silence inside, so he knew she was alone. _Of course she's alone; there are only three people in this castle…_ But rather than do the sensible thing and knock, he pushed the door open just enough to peer inside. She was sitting at the vanity, her hair down; her fingers tracing the dark edges of what could only be a bite mark.

She'd tripped a switch, somewhere deep within him. Maybe it was the unexpected challenge in her eyes reflected in the mirror. Maybe it was more the feeling that some slender thread of golden light appeared out of the darkness, flared, and in an instant, connected. The blaze of it filled his vision. His body stopped obeying conscious commands and he pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Her eyes flashed towards him in the mirror and he read the surprise in them before she stood to face him. After her initial surprise, embarrassment flashed in her eyes. He could practically feel the heat from her flushed cheeks radiating towards him as she self-consciously draped her hair to cover his mark.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior, Miss Swan."

"There's no reason –"

"But there is – I must have frightened you, I could've hurt you much worse than that bruise."

"Do I look frightened?"

"No." What he'd seen in her eyes was strong, but fragile. He couldn't shake the feeling that if he gripped onto it too tightly, he could crush it.

But he had to get nearer. He needed to keep feeling this brightness; he had to capture this wild and unearthly thing if just for a moment. He looked away from her only long enough to close the door.

"I could heal it for you – the bruise." She merely shook her head no in response. He scoffed, feeling an unreasonable amount of fear and anger surge through him.

"The truth, dearie, is that I just don't know what to make of you. While I am flattered that you seem so _interested_, I haven't yet excluded the possibility that you're playing a part to get something from me."

"I _am_ trying to get something from you. I'm not playing a part, or any game; I don't intend to harm you."

"Can you prove it?"

"You know I can't." _Now, Rumpel, now would be a good time to leave... _But the other mad voice overrode the command, he tried to goad her, prick at her – frighten her until she gave up."I enjoyed it…" came her quiet voice.

He inclined his ear toward her, "What was that?"

"What happened – earlier, I liked it."

She liked it. She _liked_ it? So that made it all okay? He ran his hands over his face, trying desperately to collect his racing thoughts. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt like something was doing its best to strangle him.

"You…_liked_…you liked me hurting you?"

She blushed, bordering on ashamed as she met his gaze, "It didn't hurt. I mean, at first it kinda did, you just surprised me. But then…it felt good."

He flinched internally at the defiance in her voice. He could only stare at her as she faced him.

"What do you want, dearie?"

"I thought I'd made it pretty obvious…"

"Pretending for a moment I believe that this," in a flash his shirt was gone, and he motioned to his scaled skin, "Doesn't disgust you –"

"It doesn't."

His hand reached out, his fingers curling around her slender wrist, pulling her toward him. She came easily, and allowed him to press her back against the canopy of her bed.

"Don't lie to me…"

"I'm not."

He sighed, looking away from her knowing gaze. He seemed to be able to hold two things in his mind simultaneously: the risks of changing the past that would affect the future, and the velvet softness of her skin, the delicacy of the bones in her wrist, the fluttering pulse beneath his fingers. So he would do it then, and remain detached, and not get involved. It would be purely physical as _she_ suggested.

He needed a tie, not even sure what he was planning. But he wanted to know more, wanted to see her open up to him again and this was the only way. He hoped she couldn't see his hand quivering as he conjured a strip of dark green silk.

He held it out to her.

"Put it on. Over your eyes."

He couldn't tell if it was panic or surprise that flashed in those eyes, but she took the fabric with little hesitation. Slipping it over her eyes, her fingers struggled with the soft silk, but finally secured a knot.

He tried to tell himself that the blindfold was just part of the game. But somewhere in the dark places of his mind he knew he was also protecting himself from a greater danger. It was those eyes of hers. Beckoning him, challenging him, begging him…seeing through him. It was his own control that was in danger. He wanted her as exposed, vulnerable, and powerless as she made him feel.

"Undress."

There were easier ways to get her naked, especially now that she was blindfolded. He could've taken the clothes off for her, or simply waved his hand and she'd be as bare as the day she was born. But he didn't, he needed her to blindfold herself, to undress herself – to make the conscious decision to be with him each step of the way.

When he looked back up at her, she had her hands behind her back, working at the zipper. Her movements only thrust her breasts further forward, and he was steadily losing the battle to keep his distance. When she finally dropped the dress onto the puddle of clothes on the floor he couldn't hold himself back any longer and in several short strides he was standing within inches of her. He stared down at her breasts; wanting to reach out and let the curve fill his hand, knowing it would fit perfectly. And though his body begged him to do it, he waited. She wasn't done yet.

"Go on..." he said.

Unable to look away, he watched as she revealed herself piece by piece, ashamed to be the one demanding she expose herself this way. At the same time, he desperately needed her to go on – to see everything.

He circled around her, his eyes consuming every curve and line of her, until he stood at her back, breathing in the scent of her. Just the slender hollows along her shoulder blades entranced him. Everything cried out to be touched and tasted...

He turned her to face him, mesmerized by the flush on her pale skin, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath. By the way she so freely gave herself, to him. His eyes drifted from the tense line of her mouth to where her nipples puckered in the cool air. They were the same deep, dusky pink as her lips, and they begged to be touched, licked, and sucked.

So he would take her, then. She clearly wanted him to. He reached for her elbows, encircling her arms with his hands before letting his grip slowly slide down to capture her wrists. Pulling her hands together behind her arched her back, and pushed the beautiful softness of her breasts into the bare skin of his chest. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move. He pressed her back against the bed post, dragging her imprisoned hands above her head and using a spell to keep them there.

He expected a struggle; for her to demand he release her. But she only sighed softly and arched her hips up against him. He swallowed a groan, the raging need in his groin nearly ending the game right then and there. He managed to drag himself away, his body screaming, but his thoughts clear…_Not yet_.

She might be physically naked, but he needed to strip her down even further if he was to truly have her. He needed her on equal ground, where she was risking just as much as he was. He stood there just taking her in, but even with that cliff-edge and the dark beyond it calling to him, something held him back from just taking what he wanted.

The dark shades of the bruise were a stark contrast to the fairness of her pale skin, and though she wouldn't let him heal it, that's where he started. In a few short steps he was before her, nudging her face to the side and exposing that tender spot on her neck. He didn't bite her, instead kissing and dragging his tongue from edge to edge, feeling the indentations of his teeth on her skin.

Her reaction was instantaneous, her hips surging forward into his hard cock, her sharp gasp eliciting a thrill down his spine.

"Stay still," he growled, gripping her hips and she instantly stilled her movements. He felt her sharp breath on his skin, then nuzzling lower on her neck he teased her, tempting her with the threat of his bite on her skin.

He dropped his head further, unable to keep himself away from the enticing curve of her breasts. His sharp, crooked teeth skimmed along the satin of her skin; the sound of her swallowed whimper and the push of her hips gave him a triumphant thrill.

He closed his eyes and had her nipple between his lips before he could change his mind and as he switched to gently suckling the sensitive peak he had to grip her hips just to keep her from buckling beneath him. But his main concern was the taste of her, the velvety feel of her skin. It had been too long since he'd felt it, and this was smoother, more delicate skin than he'd ever tasted. It was intoxicating and created its own hunger, a hunger that began to consume him as he consumed her.

He rose up to face her, his mouth in line with hers. So close to that gorgeous mouth, those lips. He could feel her soft breath. If only he leaned forward, he would be kissing her...

"Tell me...what do you want me to do?"

"Whatever you want; I want…whatever you want." There was helplessness, a pleading, in her voice. It took a second for it to register.

Her answer was honest; that much he could tell. But the words struck a chord deep within him, something that alarmed him – scared him to death. The boundaries he set for himself as the Dark One…the tight restrictions he'd always placed on his behavior. With her few words she threatened to fracture that control. If she only knew, she would never have uttered such dangerous words.

Or was this exactly what he'd been waiting for? Was she actually able to handle it? To handle him? Could he bear to show that part of himself to anyone? His body was in motion before these thoughts even fully crystallized, and he had his hand on her throat, his breath hot in her ear.

"Do not…play with me."

Despite his firm grip he felt her chin jerk upwards in defiance. "I'm not…" she protested.

"I'll ask again…what do you want me to do?" He shifted his grip, his thumb brushing the soft skin under her ear before tightening imperceptibly. He wanted an answer.

"I told you…whatever you want." She rasped, though there was no fear in her voice.

She was relentless, and it was driving him insane. But truth be told, he simply didn't trust himself. The picture in his mind right now was simply bending her over the edge of her bed and fucking her senseless. He could feel her dampness and heat through his leather pants, but he held himself in check. He would have something of her, even if he didn't trust himself to touch her more than he already had. If he did, he wouldn't stop.

He released one of her wrists from above her, and guided it to his bare chest. Her fingers moved against his skin, tentative at first. She surprised him again when a soft moan escaped her as she smoothed her hand over his skin, so much so that he released her other hand. They moved in tandem over the muscles of his chest, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the expression of sheer lustful enjoyment on her face. The slow explosion of desire began in his lower belly and raced through his body.

To have her touch him was like nothing else; the madness he thought was receding only came back stronger, but different this time. Not so much raging and sharp, but slow and warm. He was beginning to enjoy testing her boundaries, pushing her further and deeper. With some regret he peeled her hands away from his chest and returned it to its captivity against the post above her head.

"Did you think I would bed you tonight?" he asked. Confusion took over her features.

"I, uh, well…yes?"

He could sense her embarrassment at being exposed and on such open display. He wasn't about to tell her that in the dim firelight, all he could see were shadows. Or that instead of her naked pussy, it was all he could do to tear his gaze away from the frantic rise and fall of her sweet breasts, the sensuous curve of her mouth, the arch of her neck.

A rush of something new flooded through his chest and up the back of his neck and it brought small smile to his lips. She was waiting for him, waiting for what happened next. He felt oddly… uninhibited.

The madness that pursued him took over any remaining shred of rational thought, and he tuned all his senses to hers. She'd opened herself to him, and he had to see how far back he could push her resistance. How far would she trust him? How deep could he sink into her acceptance?

"Go on, then" he said softly, his voice rough with this new-found feeling.

She turned towards his voice, her own filled with uncertainty, "I…"

"Touch yourself," he commanded. Her cheeks flushed crimson as he watched her wrestle with the instruction, her emotions flickering over her face, one after another.

"Ex-Excuse me?" she breathed, barely above a whisper.

"I won't repeat myself, dearie." Once again, he released one of her hands. She kept it clutched close to her chest in some vain attempt to cover herself, as if realizing too late just how vulnerable she actually was. "You can end this at any time, dearie. Just say the word…"

His goal wasn't to humiliate her, but he honestly was terrified to touch her and make a fool of himself. He needed to see how she pleased herself, how she touched and how she moved so he could follow the map her fingers drew. He didn't miss the moment that her mouth set in some kind of inner resolve, and her hand made its fumbling way over her breasts into the dark shadow between her legs.

His arousal became something else entirely. That golden thread between them glowed brighter than it ever had before. This wasn't about physical release at all. It was the thrill of being really, truly present – _with her_ – tuned into every breath and sound of the beautiful creature before him.

Her hand dipped down, hesitant at first, then more confident, those delicate fingers moving in their own, familiar dance. Damn it, he wanted it to be his hand exploring the heat, the slick wetness – to be deep inside, feeling her walls pull him in. His chest ached from holding his breath, his eyes following the hypnotic motion of her hand.

She was breathing deep now, ragged, her hips moving just slightly away from the canopy as she stroked herself. God, she was beautiful.

"Slow…go slow," he murmured, pleased when she responded, leaning back, her bashfulness forgotten, her movements slowing, relaxing, undulating.

"Please…" she whimpered.

"Please what?" he demanded between heaving breaths, his voice low and choked, held captive by the power she so effortlessly placed in his hands.

"I need…" she paused, conflicted; desperate. "My fingers…inside…" He swallowed the deep groan at the thought of filling her up, filling her with himself instead.

He took a slow, quivering breath and forced himself to answer, "Yes, go on..."

She lifted her foot to bed frame, leaving her knee bent as she spread her legs for easier access. She groaned breathlessly, her head falling back against the canopy, her body shifting restlessly with a new desperation. He knelt before her as if at an altar to worship, studying the movements of her palm as her fingers slipped in and out. How much more of this could he stand before he lost it completely?

"I'm going to come…" she cried out plaintively. _No_.

"Not yet. Not until I say…" he growled, cursing under his breath at the sound of her soft, frustrated cries. For all his desperation he didn't want this to be over yet. Not so soon.

His eyes drifted over her body, consumed by this writhing vision before him; the picture he'd held in his mind had been made reality. Everything about her was open, exposed for him, her small hands buried in her wet heat. The pale curve of her throat exposed with her head thrown back, so close…so tempting. He ached just to taste her.

He reached out, his fingertips sliding along the delicate line of her jaw before gripping her chin between his fingers. Her lips parted slightly at his touch, and his thumb strayed, drifting across the velvet softness of her lower lip. He would have that at least – the feel of her wet tongue against his skin.

Without her eyes to captivate him, would her mouth be the next thing to do battle with his rapidly crumbling control?

He pushed against her lips gently, rubbing his thumb back and forth along her lower lip; coaxing, requesting entry. Her lips parted under his caress, drawing him into her mouth, sucking gently, then insistently, her warm tongue swirling around the soft pad of his thumb. He felt as if the breath was being drawn out of his body as he groaned, lost to everything but the feel of her drawing him deeper, sucking harder.

"Come…" he growled, his voice low. She moaned softly against his hand, "Come for me…now," he said, stronger this time.

Her body arched towards him, into the knowing touch of her own fingers as her climax hit her in waves. It was like he'd set off a blazing firecracker; he could only absorb it, amazed at the bucking, sensuous woman before him. Her cries tugged at him, bringing his desire to a breaking point. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he buried his face against her thigh, his teeth nipping her smooth flesh. He bit down, hard. The light consumed him, surrounded him as her trembling hand fisted in his hair, clenching; her ragged panting filled his ears.

"Good girl," he whispered, gasping for breath against her damp skin. "Very good girl." She didn't pull away. He basked in her warmth until the world slowed…he had to drag himself back.

Why had he invented this particular brand of torture for himself? Why on earth did he put himself in this position that left his body screaming with need? The longer he stared at her smooth, creamy skin, the more intense the waves of heat that moved steadily through his body. He wanted more, wanted all of her – to taste all of her; everything. There was no escaping it, becoming even more tangled in the enthralling thought of her lying in bed, bare against the sheets, and sinking himself into the heat of her body and losing himself – losing himself completely.

Through the red fog of his mind he was vaguely aware that he was probably gripping her leg a little too tightly. He released her other hand and she smiled as he guided her onto the bed and watched as she sprawled out in front of him. Why did she provoke him this way? It was bad enough that her naked closeness was doing things to his senses he could barely control.

"Sit up," he said, hardly recognizing his own voice. If he wanted detachment, he'd found it. How could he sound so cold when his whole body was on fire with his need to be with her, on top of her, within her?

He nearly gasped in relief as he removed the tight confines of his leather pants. He watched her try to sit up in her world of blackness, wondering if she had any idea what was coming. For that matter, did he?

He knelt onto the bed and crawled to where she huddled, trapping her wrists and pushing her onto her back, angling her knees apart with his own until he knelt over top of her. The way she touched him affected him much too deeply, and he held her hands if only to maintain what shred of control he retained.

"Now's the time to say no, dearie..." he said into her ear, "Last chance."

There was a moment of stillness as he waited for her answer; the only sound their ragged breathing. He needed her to answer because that edge was right here...right now, and he was about to go over.

"Don't stop..." she stated, firmly, clearly; loudly. Then her hands wrenched free of his grasp and she was touching him, her hands on his chest.

His hard cock brushed against her belly, twitching at the touch of her satiny skin. She made a sound, of pleasure or protest, he didn't know. She wanted this...she asked for it, she was going to get it. With that thought he pressed a hand over her mouth, shifted his hips lower, and finding the slick, hot center of her, thrust into her with one hard push.

It was a strange sort of free-fall. He felt her scream against his hand, but didn't hear it. She was tight, _gods_, _she was so tight_…and wet and warm and beautiful. The world stopped as he registered that his cock was buried deep inside her. Her hips writhed up against him, her soft curves meeting and melding against his stomach and chest, melting against him, moving with him.

Braced above her, he stopped for just a moment, watching the emotions as they flickered over her face, sincerely wishing that he could see what was going on in those beautiful eyes. But alas, that would have to wait for another time. Casting a spell over the room, he removed his hand from her mouth, wanting to relish every moan of his name, every plea that fell from her lips. She finally stilled, her chest heaving with every breath, her bottom lip held tensely between her teeth.

He leaned down, his lips near her ear, his heart in his mouth, "Wrap your legs around me." Her knees slid up his sides and wound more snugly around his hips.

The shifting angle of her body drove him deeper and he just about stopped breathing. Never had just being inside a woman felt this good. She fit him perfectly, in every way. He pulled out of her slightly, then pushed his hips forward again, sliding deep into her welcoming warmth. _Slow, go slow, damn it!_ He chided himself, fighting the red haze. But she was arching up, drawing him in, moaning in that soft sexy way, and his careful thrusts were soon lost in that dark, animal need to take her, hard.

The free-fall started again, and while he feared that he was being too rough, she clung to him, taking every pounding thrust, absorbing his aggression, turning it into something else entirely. When he felt her inner muscles spasming around him he kept going, conscious of her orgasm, but unable to stop himself, reveling in her cries of pleasure.

He carried on, in a desperate fever. With this wanton creature beneath him, the very object of his obsession – surely now he could find some relief. He could release all this pent up tension and energy that had been driving him mad. But the further and harder he chased it, the more elusive it became. He was aroused beyond words, his dick as hard as it had ever been, but he just couldn't come.

He slowed, stopping only when he was certain she'd found her own release; defeated. The darkness sat like a weight on his chest, and it was all he could do to muster the energy to carefully pull out of her and roll onto his side, burying his face in his hands.

_What the hell was wrong with him?_ Emma's silence was now the loudest sound he'd ever heard, she who he couldn't silence no matter what. He rolled away from her, angry, mortified, confused, and achingly bitter.

At first she just lay where he'd left her, but she slowly came to life, moving stiffly, reaching her hand out blindly. What for he wasn't certain, but he interlaced his fingers behind his head and propped himself on the pillows, intrigued. Some sadistic part of his mind took pleasure in watching her, still blind, her hands reaching out to find his legs. She was still so damn beautiful, her hair in tousled waves around her shoulders. It took everything in him not to reach up and tangle his fingers in it.

She worked her way up his body, pausing when her hands reached the tops of his thighs, so close to where he wanted her touch. His confusion only increased when she finally settled, her body sprawled between his legs. But still, she hesitated. His jaw clenched.

"There's something I want to do for you,"

"And what exactly is that?" he demanded sharply.

She took a deep breath, and she wrapped her hands around him, holding the base of his cock in her gentle grip. His head fall back, eyes screwed shut at the sudden pleasure. The warmth of her breath brushed across the head of his cock like a heated column of air rising to cut through the chilly air. Her lips, mere inches from the hardened length of him, slowly advanced...to taste, to feel, caressing the very essence of him.

And then her mouth was on him, right at the base, underneath, and she started licking and sucking her way up. Sparkling spots of white heat played across the insides of his eyelids as hot, slick heat engulfing him. He could hear himself groaning, but couldn't stop, lost in the sensations as her mouth found its gentle way up to the tip and swirled her tongue...oh god, that tongue. He gripped the sheets in his fists as she took him into her mouth.

"God's Emma! What…?"

It was as if the air had been drawn right out of his lungs. His entire universe shrank to the feel of every cell and nerve in his cock – every fiber of sinew and muscle and skin. Every vein was now a network of steely tendrils for her tongue to explore and trace. She did so eagerly with an easy confidence despite her blindness. Speeding up her pace, her tongue worked his cock in earnest as she moved it up and down from the head to the base. But he wanted to see...he _had_ to watch her, and with some effort he opened his eyes.

Her lips transfixed him as his cock disappeared between them; not her hair, not even her smile...it was those succulent, firm, and lush lips, and her delightfully seductive tongue. Her hair hung like a curtain, tickling his thighs as she blindly made insistent love to him with her mouth.

Everything about her movements was earnest and honest, and when she took him deeper, it was with such obvious pleasure that she did it, he began to feel himself coming undone. He searched and felt, but there was no duty in her movements, no reluctance in her touch. The pleasure just spun higher and tighter, and where he thought he'd taken from her, he could only feel her giving. All his tightly bound control and guarded walls were crumbling at the seams, and with it came the fear...

He gasped, her hands roamed over his thighs up to the taut muscles of his stomach, pressing against him as if to read every thought, every flex of his body. She was with him, totally, completely with him, and he felt himself falling towards the edge. She took him as deep as she could, her tongue repeating that delicious friction until he was arching off the bed, hips grinding into her mouth, desperate to climb to the top of that peak and go over.

"I've never felt anything so…" _good, intense, overpowering, terrifying…_? His hands gathered in the heavy strands of her hair, caught up in the silk of her blindfold. She easily could have removed it, but she kept it on, he could only guess as to why.

Moans, soft and incoherent, slipped from her lips, and in them, he heard what he longed for, her verbal acceptance, the vocal pledge to be his, no matter what. It shook him to his core and as he felt her body begin to quiver. He let go of all that he had kept hidden, let it go all for her, this one person who could shake the control he was so relentlessly protective of. He sighed, letting himself rest against her, drawing strength from her presence.

And this time, he didn't have to chase it. She led him right to the edge with a knowing and possessiveness he didn't quite understand, swearing and panting and wobbling on the edge before falling over it into the warmth of her light, without sound and without breath. Everything in him exploded into her, emptying, draining away the pain and dark and waiting. He just let her have it all, allowed her to take it from him, and she held him tight as he fell, senseless with relief and release. And he was not alone.

She rolled to his side, nuzzling and curling against him. He brought the blanket over them, and sent a fireball to the dwindling fireplace to heat up the room. Time passed, minutes, possibly hours; he didn't know.

All he knew was that she was still in his arms, clutched against his chest, trembling. The tendrils of rational thought wound their way through his clouded mind. Gently, they took hold as his breathing returned to normal, feeling as though he was back in his body. He wondered how it could be. How could he have gone this long? All these lifetimes he's walked the earth; how could he lived so long and not known or understood how it was supposed to be?

He tried to blink, his eyes stinging from emotions he could scarcely place. She didn't judge his performance or mock his difficulty, she just took control and brought him to release in a way he'd never imagined. What had been a dark, winding maze, was now a vast, wide-open space with a huge sky and no horizon. Emma had opened a whole new world to him. He didn't think she even knew what she'd done.

Plunging headfirst down that path of madness, he finally uncovered what he'd been missing…her total acceptance, her unconditional giving.

The door was open, like a man set free from a prison he considered all the things he ached to do. He could finally give himself permission to explore and discover and indulge in the treasure pressed along the length of his body. He breathed her in deeply, closing his eyes.

Careful not to disturb her, he lifted a hand and touched the heavy silk of her hair, running it slowly through his fingers. Why had he kept himself from such simple pleasures as this? How could he have thought it a danger? Well, he was in a new kind of danger now, not a physical one, but an emotional one.

His fingers stumbled over the knot of actual silk at the back of her head. She still had that damned blindfold on. With a gentle tug he slipped it up over her head and off.

"It's okay...you can open your eyes," he said quietly. He stared, mesmerized by the soft lashes that drifted against her flushed cheeks. She blinked, as if waking, and it was like watching a butterfly unfurl its wings for the first time, fluttering, hesitant, unsure. She looked up at him.

Everything that transpired before vanished and it was as if he saw her for the first time. Those deep green eyes, so open and beautiful. She was studying him, though shyly, scanning his face for clues about what had just happened between them. But he couldn't think, he could only stare back, transfixed. He'd known, really, since he first saw her, that she was different. This one was his. And the longer she stayed the truer it felt. Perhaps that was why he was so desperate to keep her here.

He drew in a deep breath at the thought and became increasingly conscious of her naked body pressed against his. He still throbbed where her lips and tongue made love to him. His gaze drifted down from her eyes to her gently parted lips. He'd bitten her, stripped her naked and fucked her, but never kissed her. The absurdity of the situation was not lost on him.

"I haven't even kissed you," he said, breathless. She giggled, beaming up at him.

Right now, as he tilted her chin up and brushed his lips against hers for the first time, he couldn't care less about propriety or the oddness of their progression. Her lips were soft and yielding; welcoming, but not passive; she drank as deep of him as he did of her. A surge of excitement rippled through him, as her tongue flicked out to meet his in a slow and thorough exploration.

From the first touch it wasn't enough. The barest of tastes and he needed more, so much more. He pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue seeking out hers in darting strokes. He thought he'd already found the missing piece, but this...this was a whole new thing he hadn't even known he was without. With each lull, resting, breathing hard, he placed soft kisses along her nose, her cheeks, chin, and even her eyelids – allowing himself access to everything he'd denied himself before.

This was the true madness. Sinking into deep, tropically warm waters, feeling the tugging of an incoming wave and being lifted with it, riding it, the excitement just building and frothing and crashing, spilling effortlessly out into calm shallows. Then the same madness, pulling at you, drawing you back into the deep again for it to happen all over again. This wasn't kissing. This was a drug, an electric sea, and he was more than willing to drown himself in it, his fingers tangled in the silkiness of her hair.

Then the wave would catch them back up, and the devouring, hungry need would be back, driving them, limbs tangling, tongues delving, even higher and even hungrier for more. Nothing in his whole life had prepared him for this.

What sort of cruel magic was this? Had the universe known how desperately he needed her that it tore the very fabric of space and time to bring them together, only to make him send her back? Or was she supposed to stay? He did need her, though, he's always needed someone tenacious, someone that he couldn't wear out or bring down – someone strong enough to withstand the depressive radiation that emanates from him. And tenacious she definitely was – perhaps the one person who could weather the storms of this curse, his insecurity, neediness, fear and doubts.

And now he could lean over her and kiss her properly. The waves just kept coming, and he was starting to wonder if he would ever tire of the feel of her lips. Her body arched up against him and he didn't stop himself relishing the warmth of her skin, the way she moved, wanting more. Her nails scratched over the expanse of his back, her fingers tangled loosely in his hair. The silky feel of her bare skin against his kept him in a low thrum of arousal despite the fact he'd so recently climaxed. He wanted her, again. Not just yet, but he wanted her.

When his hand settled on her hip she took it and slid it down between her legs. She pressed up against him, whimpering, showing him she needed it. She was hot and moist and his head began to throb. She put his hand where she wanted it and showed him how to touch her and then put her mouth against his neck. She inflamed him with soft moans as her hips lifted against his hand with fine, strong urgings of her thigh muscles.

His hand behind her shoulders reached up grabbed her wrist and held it, holding her down. He kept his hand pressed in place and let her work, wanting her to do it herself, and she did. She ground her pussy up against him; her head nestled close to his shoulder.

"Oh Yes!" She spit the word like it was something filthy, "Yes, Rumpelstiltskin, just like that!" her fingers in his hair tightened, and brought his mouth to hers in a searing kiss.

His fingers were caught wet heat of her arousal, and despite his best efforts to drown himself in the chorus of her pleasure, his thoughts slowly started to surface. Unwanted, unbidden thoughts of self-doubt, insecurity, suspicion – the cruel voices of Cora and Milah – all waged war with the exhilaration of discovery, the deep in-breath of freedom. They had lingered at the edges of his mind, but his doubts were steadily pressing in, forcing out the light.

Another thought struck him with a sick churning in his stomach. Was this just some kinky fling for her? Did she even give a damn so long as she had her fun? He looked away for the briefest moment…but she'd said she cared. She most definitely did, and he hadn't been imagining things when she'd had her mouth on him; the way she'd touched him, her trembling afterwards. Surely that had been more than just some sort of game to her?

As if sensing his growing detachment she dragged her lips away from his, leaning back, putting a little space between their bodies. He tried to concentrate on the smooth warmth of her legs still entwined between his and not the question in her eyes. He watched as she slowly scanned the room.

When her eyes came back to his, they were guarded and unreadable. _Here we go_, he thought. This was the part where it all came to pieces and turned out to be what it was...a dream, or worse – a joke. He felt himself drawing back, detaching, retreating from her as he watched her examine her surroundings, avoiding his gaze. She stroked absently at the sheets, the light receded and the lovers became strangers again.

He didn't really know what was going on anymore. His entire being lay in tatters, his mind a total mess. He closed his eyes and just concentrated on breathing. They'd sort this thing out. They'd talk and they'd figure out what they both wanted. Then he could explain...tell her that it was different for him. This time was different. Completely and utterly unlike anything he'd ever thought possible.

Fully awake now, he paced the length of his office, how could he explain it to her? In this world they'd barely talked about anything let alone relationships or feelings. Of course that was assuming he even knew what his feelings were. He closed his eyes and just pictured her; he'd had her, been inside her, for god's sake. He thought back to the moment he'd marked her, the sounds of her moaning, the damp, salt-sweet taste of her. In that moment she'd been his. He wanted that again. More than anything he wanted that.

_Stop, just...stop_. Gasping at the images that flooded past his closed eyes, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and took several shuddering breaths. This was madness. It wasn't real. None of it was real – at least not to him.

_He wanted her...wanted her so badly; _like nothing else he'd ever wanted. Thank god he wasn't with her, because he wouldn't be able to stop himself and he'd be on her and in her and fucking her and...

He grabbed his coat and locked his shop. It was the middle of the night, and once more, he left in search of Emma. He had no plan and no idea what he planned to say. When he saw her car in the station parking lot, he crossed the street, surprised to find it unlocked.

He strode with purpose into the station, his intent and focus unclear. He stopped in the office doorway, transfixed to the sight of her with her feet on the desk, hand slipped inside her jeans, gasping his name in pleasure.

* * *

><p>Emma woke with a gasp, her blood pounding in her ears. She lifted her head from her arms, disoriented as she took in the items on her desk. The station was dark save for the dim light in the corner of her office. With a heavy sigh, Emma leaned back in her chair, slipping her fingers down to the warm, silky mess between her thighs. She was shocked at how wet he still made her, even if it was just in her dreams.<p>

She was consumed with an overall feeling of warmth that spread soothingly throughout her tired limbs. She hadn't stopped thinking of him, she dreamed of him every time she closed her eyes. She allowed the memories to flood her, reveling in the sizzling heat flooding through her middle, and immediately images of his body bucking into her flashed like a movie playing on a screen in front of her eyes. This was insanity, but it didn't stop her.

She wasn't lying, she thought once she returned whatever spell she'd been under would be broken, that she would return to her normal feelings for him. But she couldn't deny her feelings, nor could she deny the woman he unleashed – a powerful savior in full command of her own destiny, with an almost unwavering confidence; a woman who craved his touch constantly, who got aroused at the most inopportune times at just the memory of his touch. But then she would smile, because she had never felt so alive, so free to explore her sexuality, so desired – so completely loved.

Someone cleared their throat and Emma instantly feared she was about to be caught by her father with her legs wide and her hand down her pants. To her relief, it was only Gold.

"Hey…" she said in clear surprise, sitting up.

"Don't stop on my account, dearie." He said with a salacious smile. She rolled her eyes, promptly removing her hand from her pants. Had she summoned him in her mind somehow?

"It's the middle of the night, Gold. What are you doing here?"

He took a seat on the opposite side of her desk, smoothing his tie, "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"You know what…"

She swallowed thickly the rising torrent of emotion, both fearful and excited at what he had to say. He could just be here to tell her that he's choosing Belle, but then, he could also be here to say that he was choosing her.

"So, talk…" she managed to say, reclining back in her seat.

"After you left my shop last night I fell asleep, and I had a very vivid dream."

"Did you?" she asked, sarcasm lacing her words.

"Indeed, then this morning I told Belle I was staying home and had _several _more very vivid dreams…" he continued as if he hadn't heard her. Then he lifted gaze to her, "I believe the dream catcher worked like a charm, it just stored your memories in my subconscious."

For a moment she didn't speak, but when he didn't elaborate, she asked, "What did you see?"

"Us…in my bed at my castle, talking about Belle." He stated simply, tapping his cane against the floor.

"The night I told you I could love you…" she clarified, and he nodded.

"Yes…and then before that, when it started, when we…or rather, when _I_…"

"Is that all you saw?" she asked, knowing how unsettled it made him that he bit her. He apologized profusely for it in the days that followed.

"So far, yes."

Just because he remembered didn't mean she was about to get what she wanted. It would be true to the pattern of her life, to be given the gift of something so incredible, only to have ripped away again.

"So what now?" she asked.

"I don't know; I don't know how I feel or what to think…" his voice trailed off, his confused expression focusing intently on the ground. Emma nodded at that, slowly rising from her chair and making her way to the door.

"I'll be right back."

She made her way to the bathroom, swearing that she wouldn't cry. She told him at the start of this that if he didn't want her, than she would let him go. And she would, if Belle was who he truly loved and wanted, she wouldn't stand in the way of that. But she wasn't about to let him see her get emotional over him. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to cool the crimson from her cheeks. She was an adult, she could do this – it wouldn't be the first time she'd been rejected. When she stepped back into the station he was standing in her way, approaching her slowly.

"You didn't give me the chance to finish…" The uncertainty and sadness was gone from his eyes and before her was a man in full command – the man who knows what he wants and gets it. Her back hit the cell bars as he trapped her body with his. "I have a fairly good idea of what I want…"

She hoped futilely that he couldn't see what was in her heart and mind at that moment because Lord knows it scared her to death. He provoked such a volatile reaction in her. Even she couldn't understand the depth of emotion she felt for him. She only knew it was stronger than anything she had ever felt.

"Are you hungry for me, Emma?" He asked, searching her eyes for the answer, that wicked smirk tugging at his lips, "Have you spent your nights dreaming about us?"

His voice was a rich baritone that floated through the air and hummed through her veins. The scent of his skin was dizzying stealing the breath from her lungs, rendering her speechless as she locked eyes with him. It was woven through the very fabric of her being, this lingering, insatiable hunger that twisted her dreams into dark sensual journeys she never wanted to awaken from.

"You know I have," She replied huskily, unable to stop the catch in her voice. She wanted him, hadn't stopped wanting him. Her nights had been spent dreaming of the things they had done, what she did for him, and to him – and vice-versa. She shivered, remembering the nights she had touched her pussy, rubbing herself frantically as the thoughts of him filled her mind. Her body would buck silently in the bed, remembering his length jammed into her.

"Are you as hungry for me as I am for you?" The power of his perusal was palpable, sweeping over body as he brought her hand to his mouth, sucking the fingers she'd used to touch herself with. He closed his eyes, sighing and moaning as if he'd tasted the nectar of heaven. She sucked air sharply into her lungs at the images he provoked in her mind. She felt the answering clench of her pussy and knew he felt it too. Liquid heat coursed through her as their eyes locked.

"The feel of being inside you; your legs wrapped around me…they aren't my memories – not yet. Every dream is of touching you, of seeing your lips parted in ecstasy after I've brought you to orgasm, or wrapped around my cock doing that exquisite thing with your mouth…"

Emma's breath caught in her throat at his whispered words, her pussy clenching and grasping did nothing to soothe the ache or help clear her mind enough to speak. The rush of heat streaking down her body left her thunderstruck.

"I need to hear you coming, Emma. I need to hear you panting with the strength of your orgasm – to feel your body quivering as you cling to me for dear life – and I need to know it's because of me. Tell me you want that Emma, tell me about the need pulsing through you right now… Tell me."

She couldn't possibly speak. The way he had softly whispered in her ear had only put to words what her body already knew, that she did need him, her body knew what it wanted and only he could stop this aching desire coursing through her system, and even then, only for a moment.

It had been all she could do to act normally around Henry and her parents. Ever since that night, she had felt like a different woman, a woman with secrets, secrets that aroused a restlessness that niggled at her constantly. Hearing that desire within Gold's voice and his racing heartbeat, feeling his desire being driven hard inside her was what awakened the lover within herself.

"Yes….I need you…I need you." She closed her eyes, clearing the lust induced fog of her mind and regaining her control. Her fingers slipped the suit jacket over his shoulders, removing the arm bands and cuff links and all the ridiculous pieces to his suit. She unbuttoned the dress shirt, slowly, not breaking his gaze, their lips nearly touching. She reminded herself that technically for him, this was their first time all over again. Her hands went to unbuckle his belt, when his hand caught her wrist in a gentle grip.

"No, Emma, let me pleasure you first…please."

He bent down and kissed her, capturing her mouth before she could do more than draw in a breath. It was hot; it was hard, and better than she remembered. She'd almost forgotten the way he licked and nipped at her lips, coaxing her tongue into play by stroking it with his own. She groaned into his mouth, even as he pulled his lips from hers. He grinned like the Cheshire cat, shirtless and sexy, and determined to drive her senseless.

Emma moaned again as his mouth captured her breast, alternately sucking and flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak. Her grip tightened his hair, holding him in place. She was lost in the determined way he devoured her breasts, first one, then the other, switching back and forth between them with little groans of pleasure of his own. The contrast of cool air and warm breath, of damp tongue and dry hands, laving and caressing her flesh, forced her eyes closed in pleasure. Within a remarkably short time he had her chest heaving, panting in and out.

When he abandoned her breasts just as abruptly as he had abandoned her mouth, she groaned in disappointment. She realized as he pulled the jeans down her legs that she never buttoned her pants up after he caught her. The jeans were added to the pile of their combined clothing,

He didn't lay her down on the cot like she thought he would. Instead, the most powerful man in all the realms knelt between her legs; mortification, not just pleasure, heated her cheeks as he took a long look at her most private parts. A fear she had never even considered blossomed deep in her abdomen. What if Gold wasn't the same as Rumple? Without his memories that he loved her, it didn't mean the same to him that it did to her. This was just Emma offering her body to a veritable stranger.

Emma didn't stop him draping her knee over his shoulder, trusting that he wouldn't hurt her. Her head fell back against the bars as his tongue swept along the length of her pussy. His long slender fingers probed into her, slowly stretching her, moving around, finding her clit with his soft lips. Her hips jerked and twitched, rocking gently with the unbearable pleasure of his knowing mouth. How she must look – standing naked with her back against the cell bars, a man kneeling between her legs.

She didn't want to be anyone's slave, not that she ever considered herself a slave to him. She was far too stubborn and independent, but just to feel what it was like to be so vulnerable with someone, to be so at his mercy brought a sense of both security and danger. She no longer felt like a mother or daughter; no longer felt like a sheriff or a Savior. With her hands gripping the bars above her head she felt incredibly vulnerable, terribly sexual. The effect on her was dizzying.

Her legs began to tremble again with an excitement she couldn't explain, and her stomach seemed to turn to liquid within her body. She was responding to him, or rather, her body was, just as it had always done, grinding her pussy against his hand, against his mouth, moving to increase the contact with the fingers that slid along her most intimate flesh.

Emma couldn't even speak. As far gone as she was, she could feel every nuance of Rumpel's mouth between her legs, almost feel the expressions on his face as his tongue slipped and slid over her clit. She felt his dizzying hunger and appreciation of her as he actually seemed to worship her pussy and by extension her whole body. He reached up, gripping her hips in his hands; she had never felt so much like a goddess; beautiful, radiant, and alive.

As good as his mouth felt, she'd been aching for this for weeks, and she had no intentions of rushing, or being rushed. She released the bar, combing her fingers through the silk of his hair.

"You can stop; I don't want to come yet…not this way."

He covered her with his mouth. A long, open-mouth kiss. As long as her breathless sigh. Oh, the taste of her. How could he have never tasted her like this before? Or perhaps he had and he just remembered yet.

His tongue slid, gentle and slow, lapping at the wet of her entrance, slow, slow up to the nub of her clit. Rolling it slow under his flattened tongue, her whole body jumped at the pressure on that one small area. He held himself still, holding her hips, waiting, breathing hard. Waiting for that little desperate moan – for the roll of her hips against his mouth. And then she'd said those words…

Gold couldn't breathe, drunk off the heady taste of her. He didn't want to stop, but he was all out of words as he stood on unsteady legs. He couldn't go back, couldn't go forward; he could only hold himself there, his lips touching hers with the barest of caresses. Waiting, chest heaving.

Her hands moved, hesitant, but they found their way onto his bare stomach. He nearly jumped at her touch, his whole body tense, still somehow waiting for the shove. Waiting for her to push against him, push him away and reveal that this had indeed been nothing but a cruel joke.

But her hands made their way slowly up his stomach instead, smoothing over his chest, raising goosebumps wherever they touched his skin. He sucked a breath in through his teeth. Her fingers slid up his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer. _Oh yes. Closer was good. Oh god, yes._

"How would you like to make some new memories?" she breathed against his lips, her body flush against.

"Yes, very much so, please…"

With a groan he flattened himself against her, pressing her into the cell bars with his body. He wanted her to feel how hard he was for her. Wanted her to know what she did to him. He wasn't kissing her gently anymore. He was devouring her mouth, his tongue seeking out hers, searching for her. She drew him in, her fingers tightening in his hair, arching her hips up against him. She was so soft and felt so good. And she hadn't pushed him away. The relief that flooded through him was being replaced by the rising fever. He needed her, now.

He didn't dare stop kissing her for a second as he laid her on the cot, unable to silence the part his brain thinking that she might just escape him if he did. That he'd open his eyes and she'd melt like a dream and be gone. He wasn't letting her go this time.

He wrestled with the belt and the fastenings on his trousers, gasping against her mouth when he finally freed himself. Sliding her higher up the cot, he trapped her body beneath his, and her smooth legs came up around his waist. She looked positively smug, and it thrilled him to know that she was with him and loved this as much as he did. What words couldn't say, action could, and he was pleased to see her little smile waver as he held her gaze, letting her know with one look all that he intended to do with her...to her. He couldn't wait. He needed to have her.

His lips found the soft peak of her breast, the nipple tightening and pebbling under the steady swirl of his tongue. He suckled gently at first, then harder, his lips and tongue insistent, drawing a keening wail of pleasure from her. Her body arched beneath him, firmly trapped by his arms and legs, but he knew she would fight him even harder if he dared to stop. Hungrily, he licked, kissed, and nibbled his way over to the other waiting breast, his appetite for the salt-sweet taste of her only growing. He held her firmly, losing himself in the feel of her, the taste of her.

He reluctantly dragged his mouth from her breast, conscious that she was growing too sensitive, and trailed his kisses up her neck instead. His mouth seemed constantly drawn to that sweet spot on her neck. He paused, his lips and teeth just barely grazing the spot where he first marked her – where the thread of light first penetrated through his darkness and lit up his internal sky. The bruise was gone now, and only the slightest indentations of his teeth could be seen.

"I've never bitten anyone else, you know," he whispered, his fingers tracing the marks. He felt her soft intake of breath. "I was overcome; I just needed to taste you...feel you. To know you'd be thinking about me every day." He let his mouth settle against her skin, absorbing the rapid throb of her pulse.

"I know…" came her breathless reply.

He pulled back and looked down at her, filled with a new lightness, his voice mock-serious. "You have thought about me every day, haven't you?"

She just groaned in response, their eyes locked, her body straining against him in frustration and need, and he chuckled.

"What?" he asked, his tone playful. "Is there something you want, dearie?"

"Yes!" she cried, her eyes flashing wider, glaring at him.

"And what's that then?"

"You know exactly what!" She continued to struggle against him despite her helpless position.

"This?" he asked, nibbling delicately along her neck.

"No!"

"Then tell me..."

"Bastard," she moaned, "Please Gold..."

"Please what?" He watched her, fascinated by the flush in her cheeks, the dilation of her pupils, the wild, fluttering desire that transformed his demure, responsible Savior into a wanton.

"Please...fuck me." She whispered the words so quietly he had to strain to hear her, but they still hit him in the gut, nearly sending him right over the edge. And oh god, did he want to – to fuck her and never stop. He flattened the length of his cock against the downy curve of her belly, closing his eyes as the sensation tore at his control.

"You want this, hm?" he taunted her gently, grinding his erection slowly against her stomach, his voice as unsteady as his restraint. She nodded, her movements becoming more frantic, her eyes glassy with need, and eyelids fluttering as she struggled to focus.

He wasn't teasing though, when he kissed her. He didn't hold back, letting his lips slide over hers, his tongue seeking out the sweet recesses of her mouth. Her tongue danced with his, drawing him in, pulling him deeper.

When he finally drew back, she whimpered at him in protest, the look in her eyes vulnerable and accusing. How dare he stop, was that it? This time around, he took special pleasure in looking long and deep into her eyes. He denied himself the simple pleasure of seeing her arousal, frustration, and pleading; her struggle for control before they glossed over in absolute pleasure. By the time he was done with her she'd be begging him for mercy, just the thought of it made his cock twitch. He wanted to hear it...hear that breathy voice of hers pleading with him – to stop, to never stop, to fuck her, to fuck her harder...

He took hold of her chin firmly, tilting it up until she looked him in the eye.

"No complaints, just do as I say, Emma."

She stared back at him, eyes wide. He watched the tip of her tongue dart out as she unconsciously licked her lips, and he knew his answering grin was a wicked one.

Pushing into her was like coming home. Nothing had ever felt so right. Her legs tightened around his hips as he thrust up into her, his restraint in pieces. For a blinding moment he was completely lost in the tight heat of her body. He just held her there, the weight of her wrapped around his waist only pushing him deeper inside. With a long, slow thrust of his tongue he deepened the kiss, the insistent flex of his hips mirroring his steady assault on her mouth. She moaned into his kiss, clutching at him inside and out, and he found he couldn't go slow. His next thrust was hard and deep and quick, and again, and again...

"I've missed you…" she whimpered against his lips. The words weighted with her emotions gripped his heart, and if he didn't know better he might think there were tears in her eyes.

The sweet friction sharpened, and he knew he was about to lose it completely. _Stop...you must stop_, said the logic. He groaned a deep mental '_No_', but knew it spoke the truth. They were skin to skin, nothing between them. He slowed, though the wrestling match with his body was intense. How could he stop something that felt so perfect?

And he did stop, leaning into her, panting, face buried against her neck. He let his lips graze the soft skin under her ear, scraped lightly with his teeth. Slowly, gently, he pulled back from her, when he spoke again, it was in a whisper, each word punctuated by a gentle brush of his lips on hers.

"I'm sorry...sorry..." He breathed her in, intoxicated, frustrated to the point of pain. He felt her wriggle against him in protest. She hadn't wanted it to end any more than he had. "I know, I know...but we need to use protection..."

He heard her disappointed sigh, felt her arch of disagreement. But when he looked up and met her eyes, there was a smile dancing on her lips as she looked up at him through lowered eyelashes.

"Gold, are you saying you don't want our lovechild?" she asked him, teasing, breathless.

He didn't know what had struck him silent – the beauty of her just looking up at him, lips swollen from his kisses, her hair tumbled softly around her face. Or the fact she was talking about having his child, even if it was only theoretical. The flush of heat came straight up from his belly and he just hovered, gaping at her, unable to string words together.

"I've been on the pill ever since I gave birth to Henry, we're safe." He watched her as she settled herself back on the cot, gorgeous and naked and with that secretive little smile still on her face.

"You are so beautiful, Emma…" She stared up at him, lips parted, eyes dark and shining. He just let himself look at her, taking it all in once more, his gaze drifting down her body from the soft curves of her breasts to the gentle slope of her belly and the blonde hair below. He had finally tasted all of her and now he wanted nothing more than to savor her.

"I like it when you say my name…" she breathed. Some distant part of his mind registered her words and made the connection.

"There's power in a name…" he murmured. Did she feel it? Was that why she was becoming his? Belonging to him more with each caresses, each touch? Kneeling onto the bed he quickly had her arms above her head, straddling her legs and pinning her beneath him. He flexed his hips, sliding his erection down and underneath her, enjoying the slick friction of her along the length of his cock. God, she was so wet…and impatient.

"I fought it, but deep down…" Her hips were grinding against him with increasing frustration, begging him with her body.

"Deep down what?" The hunger to be inside her was building again, and teasing her was beginning to be a game he was having difficulty playing. "Tell me, _Emma_…"

"I'm yours…" She shivered at that, a low humming moan in her throat, her eyes closing momentarily as she arched against him. "I think…I've always been yours…"

He smiled, pulling her captive hands to his chest, angling his hips so the tip of his cock rubbed against her clit instead, denying her one pleasure, but giving her another. She reacted like she'd had an electric shock, moaning and whimpering; her frantic sounds only encouraged him to do it again, slow, teasing. He wanted her focus; to be in no doubt of whom she was with right now. So maybe he was still a bit of a bastard.

He bent in to nip at her neck, "Say it again…" punctuating his words with harmless little nibbles. She had to blink and swallow before she found her voice, her breath hitching with every touch of teeth to skin.

"I'm yours…"

He flexed his hips in a slow grind against her, a low growl in his throat when she tightened her knees around his hips with a breathless whimper.

"Good girl…"

He released her arms, the images in his mind took hold and he burned to feel her the way he wanted to.

"Turn over," he instructed. A broad smile formed on her lips, eagerly rolling onto her stomach without hesitation. She slid up to a kneeling position, the roundness of her sweet, swaying bottom nearly brushing up against his aching erection. If only she knew how gorgeous she looked; how enticing. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to plunge himself into her right then.

She bent down under him as he moved up behind her on his knees, bracing himself above her. His erection slid tantalizingly against the smooth, soft skin of her inner thighs, a hint of slick wetness when he pressed closer. She was so warm, her face pressed into the pillow, moaning for him. He'd barely even touched her and she was already moaning in pleasure. He took in a slow, deep breath.

Leaning back to balance his weight, he gripped her wrists in his hands, bringing them around until her hands rested together at the small of her back. He wasn't trying to restrain her, but now she was completely at his mercy, all her vulnerable places open and exposed to him. Had he created this for himself, this fulfilment of his desires? _No_, he only needed Emma's name to make her the Savior – the breaker of his curse. There was no magic powerful enough to make someone love another person.

The thrill of it washed over him; she was well and truly his, by no magic or spell. He drifted, floating in that warm sea again, his desire a languid thing to be savored, sipped. Her body was his to explore, and he would, he had every intention of mapping out her body all over again, tracing every curve – just not right now.

Holding her wrists he slid his arm around her waist, pressing the tip of his cock against her slick entrance. He pulled her back towards him, penetrating only a short way into that dark heat before pulling back. She whimpered into the pillow, struggling against his hold. He knelt over her, chest heaving with the effort it took not to just take what he wanted. She had to be ready.

"So impatient, love…" he teased, but he was far gone as she was.

The taut line of her belly filled his hand as he dragged her back against his throbbing cock, absorbing every choked whimper that shook her. He lifted her arms up and away from her back so he could smooth his hand along the graceful curve of her spine, Her slow, sobbing breaths told him what he needed to know.

With aching relief he plunged into her, deep, hard, ramming his cock into her welcoming heat. He let the thrill wash through him as she screamed her pleasure into the pillow; staking his claim, taking possession. The bright thread of light burst behind his eyes, competing with the red haze of need. The rest became a blur.

"Oh, Gold…yes…" she was breathless, mindless, meeting his every thrust.

He took her over and over, freely, without restraint. With each thrust she absorbed his ferocity, accepted the intensity of his onslaught. Nothing existed except the tight heat that surrounded him, the delicate wrists he gripped in each hand, the sweep of blonde curls over her shoulders. Her body bent and bowed and flowed with his. They pushed each other higher, up that intensifying spiral of pleasure.

He wanted her to come with him, wanted to feel her clench around him again in orgasm as he fell over the edge with her. Keeping her wrists held tight, he slid his hand along her hip, smoothing along the sweet indent of her waist. Lower and down under her belly, and his fingers were sliding into the wet folds at her center, finding the little pleasure nub and swirling, circling, stroking.

"Say _my_ name…_Em-ma_."

"_Rumpelstiltskin_…" Her cries grew sharper, and she tightened around his thrusting cock, writhing back against him when her orgasm hit.

He was so close to the edge, the tightness pulling in from his whole body, the tension building and building and when she spasmed around him he lost his grip on her wrists. He grabbed her hips, pushing into her harder, deeper as the pleasure began to rise, began to flow and explode. He heard his rough groans mingling with her breathy cries, felt her trembling and shaking beneath him as he collapsed on top of her.

As he stopped moving within her, terrified that he had taken more then she meant to give, he began to withdraw, frantically afraid that his hunger, his need had robbed him of what he needed so much. But she whimpered at his movement, and pulled him back to her, keeping him on top of her.

Her head rested on the pillow, and all he could focus on was the pale smooth skin of her shoulder. As the last surges of his orgasm ebbed, he knew he had to taste her again. Letting his lips brush against her skin, he scraped gently with his teeth before biting down, his arm encircling her waist, pressing her against him. He felt her arch, heard the whimper and her satisfied sigh.

Something completed for him, it all came full circle, reaching a fullness he hadn't known could be. A swell of emotion rose through his chest and he found himself gripping her harder, tight to him, loath to let her go. He rolled onto his side, dragging her with him until she was draped across his heaving chest. She laid still, her cheek pressed to his chest, as if intent on listening to the gradual slowing of his racing heart.

He stared down at her bent head, at her hand draped across his stomach. Even with her warm body pressed against him as evidence, there was some part of him that still doubted her existence. Perfection was something he'd always held in suspicion, but he couldn't deny what he'd felt. He was only half of the equation, though.

She hadn't moved since he pulled her over top of him. He knew she was still awake, but he couldn't see her expression, and it worried him. Not her reaction to the roughness of the sex, but the intensity of it. His intensity. He sighed, letting his fingers comb through her long hair. His eyes caught sight of the security camera that started all this and the world stopped.

"Emma, is that camera still recording?" she moaned softly, angling her head to see what he was talking about.

"Oops," she murmured sleepily against his skin, "Guess I'll have to destroy another tape."

They laughed, releasing all the pent up emotion. There would be much to discuss and figure out, but right now, he closed his eyes and relished the peace and joy of the moment.

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><p>Again, I hope you enjoyed it. I hope it wasn't too long. Feel free to review and let me know!<p> 


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